


The Kingslayers Wife

by Katsimsam



Series: Kingslayer [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Sexual Assault, Character Death, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Major Character Injury, May/December Relationship, Minor Character Death, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Past Abuse, Plot Twists, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Indulgent, Smut, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-02-19 06:07:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 72,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22173019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katsimsam/pseuds/Katsimsam
Summary: Part 2 of the series "Kingslayer"Won't work as stand alone.A direct follow on from 'The Kingslayer Love', part two will pick up immediately where we left off. The court has been informed of the surprise release of Ser Jaime Lannister, from Kingsguard vows, that he has not been beholden to for years, unbeknownst to him or anyone else. As well as his secret wedding to Sansa Stark. Foiling plots to undermine The Lannisters, and attempts to control both Lord Tywin and ultimately Casterly Rock.War is brewing between the Lions, whilst peace may be on the horizon on a far wider scale.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister & Tyrion Lannister, Jaime Lannister/Sansa Stark, Joffrey Baratheon/Margaery Tyrell, Tyrion Lannister & Sansa Stark, Tyrion Lannister/Shae, Tywin Lannister & Sansa Stark
Series: Kingslayer [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1596043
Comments: 527
Kudos: 311





	1. Never Coming Home Again

**Author's Note:**

> As promised? I have endeavoured to deliver a much anticipated sequel for "The Kinglayers Love". Chapter one takes us to Riverrun, and we will return immediately to Kingslanding and the Throne Room, following the announcement of the marriage of Jaime and Sansa, directly.
> 
> Also? I want to leave a shout out to all those wonderful people who have waited patiently and have also taken the time to express interest in the next part of this story! I apologise for the wait! 
> 
> Hopefully waits between chapters for this will not be too long, but I make no promises with 2 other WIPs till open.
> 
> I really hope I can deliver the same degree of work for this second part! ENJOOOY! And remember I am being super dooper self indulgent here!!

**_Plans and needs change like the direction of leaves on the swift autumn breeze,_ **

**_Oh my dearest darling loves, my hearts greatest desire is to know you as we once were,_ **

**_But as time moves ever swiftly on, know that we cannot always have what we please,_ **

**_Remember me well, as true as that sweet solemn wolfs song, and know that this is my choice,_ **

**_For when the sun sets golden, high above the cliffs overlooking that Western sky,_ **

**_A new dynasty will awaken. Hear me loud and hear me proud,_ **

**_And hear us howl, for once the night falls the moon will rise ever high, for us it will never die,_ **

**_In the cold and in the dark we shall thrive,_ **

**_But in the sun and in the light, know we must survive,_ **

**_I know of duty and I know of honour and I know of betrayal too,_ **

**_I know of pain and I know of agony and I know what it is to fail, it’s true,_ **

**_Believe me true to the song in my heart and wave me off with love and loss,_ **

**_For home again I shall never sail, believe me well, I am in truth for though I’ve known true hell,_ **

**_Know that I know love once more and care beyond it too._ **

**_The North remembers, I know it, and know I understand it well._ **

**_Sing me a song of good fortune my loves, and please forgive my weakness,_ **

**_I needed a saviour, a hero deep down and true, before I let it go and flew._ **

**_My home may be lost to me, but in my heart it will always be._ **

**_It’s for you my loves, my farewell song, for it’s time to let go._ **

**_I will fight and I will love and I will know I played my part,_ **

**_For me to succeed, in this world built on lies, you have to take it back to the start._ **

**_Please my loves go back to the start. What I wouldn’t give to go back too._ **

****

****

****

**_My Little Cat,_ **

**_A trade of sorts: a little one for a golden one, the elder in place of the younger. There is love, I have seen in true and I have seen the safety net beneath her too. It’s not ideal, I will grant you that, but they played the hand that was dealt. She is smart and she is beautiful and she is a cold as ice in truth. Once this is done and settled and all those responsible are dust on the wind, don’t forget what she gave up to keep the blood from spilling. She will be great and she will be loved and one day she will restore what was stolen. You taught her well as did her father and your own though she knew him not well. She will endure and she will win this awful game of thrones. It’s time for this to be over. I will watch over her for the rest of my days, but she is in no danger, not with him. He can’t return her, not free of him at least, but he IS protecting her with all that he has – his rather obvious heart included. In other news, they are closing in on mutual situations, but for now there is still not enough just yet. - Updates on the little one and the companion sent for her when you can. A distraction in the form of celebration is only days away tell the young one that’s the perfect window to collect the prize expected for our friends, and for the love of all the Gods – do NOT blow peace to have it become public knowledge. Stealth is the key here._ **

**_All of my love, My Dearest One,_ **

\-----------

Catelyn swallowed hard as she read the missives over a second time just to clarify that she understood them well enough. After so very many years she should be grateful to have word from and of her darling girl, and she was - to a point. It meant she knew she was well – alive at the very least. But with every new missive came new concerns, new reasons for people to judge her, and new waves of guilt over her own actions. Had she just listened to Tyrion Lannister in that inn that day they could have ended this without losing what they had. If the two of them could have found the common points of manipulation together, maybe there wouldn’t have been this senseless war and maybe her family would be home and together as they should be, with her Ned too. She hated Jaime Lannister; she hated him with a burning passion, but she had done exactly as he had, hadn’t she? She had attacked an innocent to protect her own, and caused all manner of chaos because of her impulsivity. He had pushed her boy from that window, to protect the woman he loved and their children – granted it was a woman he shouldn’t have loved and children he should have never fathered, but that made no matter to him, he was protecting his family. And from all that she had shared with Ser Barristan in recent days, she now understood that near all of his stupid decisions had one focal point. From all accounts, he was not a needlessly cruel man, but rather one who was rash and quick to react and guilt ridden once he had time to think. It was his sister that was cruel, proof enough of that was the order to have all of Roberts bastards slaughtered as she had. And sure, Jaime had also attacked Ned and their men in the street, but she had taken his brother prisoner too, which was why he did it. He had wanted his brother back. And she had kidnapped an innocent man, who had actually tried to help her son, because she was so ready to believe the lies of a man she thought she knew.

She thought she was helping, likely Jaime had thought the same with his actions too and yet all they had done was made it so infinitely worse. Tywin Lannisters attack of her families people and lands was squarely on her shoulders, and now she would be forced to accept that her child both loved and was loved by a man not at all worthy of her to bring peace for what she had helped to cause. Political marriages weren’t at all uncommon to end conflict or to secure allies, but she never truly dreamed that she would have to sell her own children in such a manner. Yet she had wilfully betrothed her eldest son and youngest daughter to people far below their station for added numbers and strategy, and now she had to accept that her eldest daughter had been married not once, but twice – if she was correctly interpreting things, to the enemy house. Now her sweet little lady, whom could have been a Queen and whom should have had the chance to marry for love, had to weather scandal on top of scandal and unfortunately be seen as a traitor to her own people – at least until this was done and they could explain to them all what she had done. – Even then none of them would ever respect her husband; not even once he become The Lord of The Rock. Nor would she, never fully at any rate – though IF he made the effort to apologise to her and actually showed her the remorse she suspected he felt over Brandon’s fall, maybe, given her own actions, she would allow it to a degree for Sansas sake. But she would never forget.

\--------------

She smiled softly and held her hand out in invitation to the wild little wolf lass whom had found her way to The Godswood, herself. It was just one of the reasons that missives from her sweet little lady had been so very vital to her. Her wild pup had been found, alive, if not completely well. Her uncles word had proven rather fortuitous, and her darling boy had ridden out personally – under a cloak so his identity was hidden of course, towards The Crossroads the day following Ser Barristans arrival. And he had found her – or rather Grey Wind had found her, hiding in the scrub, well off the roads with The Hound, of all people. None of them had known what to expect in truth. From all accounts, she had been missing since her father died two years before hand. And only the Gods knew what she had lived in that time. But she had wept and wailed and clung to her brother – refusing to let go, even to ride back to Riverrun. And her darling boy, bless his kind loving heart, had held her before him on his horse so she need not do so. But she didn’t speak – not really. Not beyond asking if Sansa still lived. And then she had done the same to her, refusing to let her go until it was time to bathe and wash the road and the grime from her small body.

It hurt her, in truth, to see her Arya. She was a woman grown at fourteen namedays, and the evidence had been before her in the form of her body – albeit slightly malnourished, she had the body of a woman, and she was beautiful; and she had missed it because of this senseless war that should never have been. Furthermore, she didn’t know who she was anymore, which served to tell her that she didn’t have a clue who her elder daughter was either, or how she looked as a woman grown. But her Arya had become skittish after that, not liking being in large crowds at all and constantly on guard. She hadn’t argued over wearing dresses, she just refused to do so and she refused the help of maids too. Only she was allowed to touch her in that regard and only what Arya deemed absolutely necessary. But Catelyn hadn’t tried to push her, she was the only one she had gotten back and she would be the only one she got back completely, in truth, besides Robb, whom she had had from the start.

Lady Brienne had clattered in days after Arya had, and she was so infinitely grateful that her girl had returned. She had explained that it was Jaime Lannister who had told them where she had been seen and warned that she would be terrified and armed and likely well hidden amongst the small folk. A point that amused her and had her rethinking on what she knew of the man who would be her daughters lover. She had tasked him with their safety and their return true, but she had expected it would more likely be Tyrion Lannister who saw it done, rather than Jaime himself. But she had been wrong and he had fulfilled the vows she had extricated from him.

She squeezed her little ladies hand softy and waved her onto the stump beside her before sighing softly and waiting. Besides being skittish and always on guard, she had found that her daughter only spoke if she wanted to, besides with The Hound, and in an interesting twist – with Brienne, whom she found rather fascinating. “Are those from Kings Landing?” She nodded and sighed almost sadly at the missives her daughter was eyeing curiously. She had been almost desperate for any detail they could give her pertaining to Sansa, something she found to be so very heart warming. She was the one she was worried for. The only other thing she wanted to know was if she could write Jon, which she allowed with the promise to see it send as soon as it was safe to do so. Her daughter seemed to understand well enough that she needed to remain ‘lost’ for now for her own safety.

“She’s alright?” Catelyn smiled at the clear concern behind those big grey eyes and nodded. “She is; though, remarried somehow. – I don’t know the hows or the whys at all, but she has apparently found her marriage to Lord Tyrion set aside in favour of a marriage to Ser Jaime. – NOT ideal.” Arya hummed quietly and chewed at her nail, something she would ordinarily reprimand her for, but she wouldn’t - for now at least.

“He was her lover anyway right? So that she could have a babe and have them be the next Lord of The Rock?” She cocked a curious brow at that, she wasn’t aware that her daughter knew any of this. Arya rolled her eyes and sighed in annoyance. “Brienne said that The Kingslayer had agreed to give her children so that Lord Tywin would guarantee her safety and that her child would take Casterly Rock, because Cersei is a crazy jealous bitch who thinks that they are lovers because Sansa is more beautiful than her and he is protecting her. – She said he is stupidly besotted with her too, which is really funny – because she did steal him from Cersei – it’s kind of a hilarious way to get revenge. Besides, isn’t it better that she just be married to him? Then there’s no scandal over her being wanton and taking a lover or whatever; and there is no issue with the succession line. She will be Lady of The Rock when The Great Lion is dead and her kid after The Kingslayer.” Catelyn couldn’t help the scandalised laugh she let out at it being put so plainly. One thing she had missed about her little lady the most was her gruffness. Even if it was utterly, deplorably, inappropriate, for a young Lady of her station, to speak so. It was refreshing also, because it was just so Arya.

“I suppose it is. But she can never come home again now. The Lords might have forgiven her for doing her duty with Tyrion. They will never accept that she is now Jaimes wife.” Arya scoffed rudely and shook her head. “What do they expect her to do? Let Joffrey take her head because she refused? Idiots! She has NO choice and even if she did choose it? She did it for them too, even if a big part of her wanted to for her own reasons! They have no idea what it’s like to live there. She should be allowed to be a bit selfish now. The Kingslayer might be a giant ass and he might be an oathbreaker and a sister fucker and all those other things that make him not good enough for her, but he is her stupid knight of song and he saved her or is saving her or whatever. Plus! – He is actually handsome or whatever too and he loves her. He did as you asked him and made sure I got home Mama, and he is keeping Sansa safe however he can. Plus! Lord Tywin won’t hurt her without good reason, which means, if he picked Sansa for his heir? He will probably try for peace soon. Once he does whatever he has planned now.” Catelyn gaped a little at that and then frowned in confusion. “How in the world do you know what or how Tywin Lannister will act?” Arya grinned impishly at her and leaned in close. “I was his cupbearer at Harrenhal. He didn’t recognise me. I thought about killing him - but I actually got to know him a bit. He isn’t actually a monster – just VERY smart. He makes the brutal decisions – not honourably I know – but he does it to actually prevent MORE people dying. – Look at the Reynes and the Tarbecks! - Both rebelled because his father was too soft and he demanded they pay the taxes they should have been paying all along to pull them into line and they refused and were set to go to war with him over it. The West was in a really bad way, full of debt and poverty. Civil war would have meant the lives of so many innocents all because they didn’t want to pay their debts, so he killed them all and saved the rest of his people from war and further poverty by doing it. – And not a single house has rebelled since and they are the richest Kingdom now and completely loyal. It was brutal – but it was brilliant. He will have something planned to sort this out and then we will have peace. – Because, if he was looking to do that to us? He wouldn’t have married Sansa to Jaime. He wants her as Lady of The Rock – if he killed her family, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to put her in a position to destroy everything he built.”

Catelyn sat back and blinked at her little girl in astonishment. She could see the calculations behind her big eyes. Apparently she was every bit as cunning as her elder daughter was, and rather terrifyingly brutal in her approach to boot. – Which was concerning to say the least. She sucked in a weary breath and bit her lip in an attempt to sort out her words. “We can come back to how you managed to be under that mans nose without his notice and how you know those things, but first? - I do need to argue the comment about his not being needlessly cruel. – He did present Elia Martell and her children to King Robert too remember.” Arya hummed in agreement and frowned a little before looking back at her. “He did. But I don’t think he meant for it to go that way. Think about it? He COULD have raised the babe up as King, with Princess Elia as regent and he would have had her favour and Dornish favour by doing it and then he wouldn’t have had to give Cersei to that idiot – and trust me King Robert was an idiot and Lord Tywin hated him. But he is too proud to admit that men under his control, weren’t actually under his control – it makes him look weak if he can’t control his soldiers. So he twisted it in his favour. If he truly WANTED to end House Targaryen, the two that got away wouldn’t have ever been let go – and he wouldn’t have failed to see them dead, but he never bothered to ensure it. – Anyway, he knew I was highborn, but I told him I was just lucky enough that my parents worked for a generous Lord and he allowed me to be educated so I might have a better life for it, when I grew up. – I don’t think he believed me anyway, but he let it go and he didn’t recognise me as a Stark so that’s all that really mattered. He even taught me to talk like a lowborn. He taught me a lot and he talked to me about anything I wanted, and I was his cupbearer because I got caught and dragged to Harrenhal as a prisoner and he knew I was a girl so moved me away from the other prisoners. – I know he isn’t a good person, I know that. But I don’t think he’s the evil person everyone believes he is either, he’s just ruthless and he doesn’t care whether people like him for how he gets results.”

Catelyn hummed curiously and frowned as she processed everything her daughter had said. A little startled at her intelligence and her deductions and a little impressed as well. She had never really thought too much on it herself. But she had been far removed from the court or even Southern machinations for so very long that it wasn’t really a big surprise that she hadn’t done so. It really was of little consequence to The North and perhaps that had been a mistake too – staying out of it so completely.

She smiled ruefully at her daughter and patted her hand. “You can join your brother for his councils from now on I think little lady. Insight and information like that is rather invaluable at the moment.” Arya snorted a laugh and shook her head, twisting her fingers together in her lap and focusing her eyes on them as she did. “I will help Robb with whatever he needs, but not if it risks Sansas safety to keep this stupid war going and I won’t even talk to the stupid Lords if they can’t see that Sansa isn’t a traitor at all. – Protecting her and her reputation is the only thing that I can do for her now, to repay her for how mean I always was to her and for leaving her there, when I ran away. - She knew what I didn’t. She knew she couldn’t just tell the truth no matter who it insulted and she knew that she had to pretend to like them and be happy with her lot. I would have died if I had been stuck where she is.” Catelyns heart melted in her chest at the clear love she had for her sister and it broke into a million tiny shards at the guilt she was carrying that she did not need to carry.

“I don’t think she blames you for anything Arya. And I also don’t think she would have survived running with you either. You both survived this because of your differing strengths – and she never forgot about you either. As soon as she could, she got word to us that you weren’t in the city and likely where you would head if the opportunity came up. But we both need to accept that she isn’t coming home again Arya.” Her little girl smile wistfully and brushed tears away from her eyes quietly. “She can visit but. One day. That’s why I don’t want them thinking her a traitor Mama. Winterfell is her home too – even if she was always supposed to go South and marry some fancy high lord and be the lady of his castle. And even if she never felt like it was and never fitted in, she is still my sister and she is still of the North and she should be allowed to see it again after all she has suffered. – I know that they beat her and humiliated her Mama. And… She saw it… Yoren pulled me away and forced me to turn so I didn’t see, but Sansa was right next to him and the guards had to hold her back and the scream she let out… We can’t abandon her for finding what happiness she could.” Catelyn gave in and pulled her into her arms to soothe her, letting her own tears fall for her love and her little girls who had seen and known far too much of this worlds cruelties. Far too much.

“Do you remember meeting Lord Baelish Arya?” Her daughter hummed in affirmation and scrunched her nose up in disgust at the mere mention of him. “What can you tell me about him?” Arya eyed her awkwardly and cleared her throat. “That he is creepy and sly? He owns a couple of brothels and some of his women are really badly treated. I met a few when I was hiding in Flea Bottom before Yoren found me. He always watched Sansa too – like he wanted to see under her dresses, it was disgusting. He hated Father, even though he pretended to like him and be his friend. He was the one who actually set him up the day he was arrested. He put a dagger to his throat – and he smiled when Sansa begged for his life too and he was smiling at the sept – when… The small folk hate him more than even Joffrey, they all know to stay away from him if they can – I know all of this because when I asked around about what was happening everyone knew he had a hand in the LORD HANDS arrest and execution. – Some even think he was the one to tell Joffrey to take his head and some think he killed the previous hand too. He is slippery but, there is never any PROOF he is doing these things. Why do you want to know?”

Catelyn closed her eyes and sighed heavily, her heart sinking in her chest at her own naivety. She really had been blind. “Because he started all of this Arya. The reason your father went South is because my sister wrote to say she suspected Jon Arryns death was foul play by The Lannisters. It’s why I took Lord Tyrion – I believed he tried to kill Bran – after his fall an assassin was sent to kill him in his bed. Petyr Baelish told me it was Tyrions dagger, and we already suspected them of treasons and of Jons death. All of it was a lie.” Arya growled low in her throat and jumped up to pace before her, clearly wound tight. “Except for the fact that it is treason because Joffrey is Jaime Lannisters bastard – all of them are. – But who really cares who sits on that stupid chair – as long as it’s not Joffrey because he needs to die to avenge Father. The other two are actually nice enough. Plus I wouldn’t have wanted to have Roberts babes either – he used to hit her and scream at her and he was such a pig. – I wouldn’t have fucked my BROTHER but I can’t blame her for finding a lover. – Not that she is a good person at all, - shes as crazy as Joffrey.” Catelyn snorted a laugh and coughed at the ridiculousness of the situation and at the vulgar way her daughter spoke. – Again she wouldn’t reprimand her for it. Not until she was settled a bit and was more at home and at ease with them. But her ability to turn a blind eye to it, was wearing thinner and thinner with every curse her daughter didn’t even attempt to stop from slipping.

“Yes, besides that. Robb had similar thoughts on it. It isn’t up to us to continue to fight for someone elses throne. It may be Stannis Baratheons by rights, but it isn’t our concern, what is, is seeing Joffrey removed from it. Personally I want to see the Queen dead too, and obviously Baelish and ideally Tywin Lannister, but he isn’t our priority. We do have a few traitors we need to deal with here and a task for a different ally – THAT, you might actually be able to help with if you are interested? PURELY from an intel stand point, of course! Otherwise we will be pulling back once we work out terms agreeable enough with The Lannisters and once Joffrey is dead we may look at swearing fealty to Tommen. – But that’s for later too.” Arya grinned wickedly and toyed with her little sword, a habit that had actually been a rather large concern for her. The darkness inside her daughter was a definite worry, but her recovery would take time, she understood that well enough.

“Lord Tywin can’t die before there is peace. It has to come from him. If it comes from The Kingslayer, it will look like he is weak and ruled by his wife and he won’t have an easy time controlling his banners – which makes things hard for Sansa and for us actually having any sort of USEFUL relationship with The West. The rest I agree with. Tommen is only a little kid, with proper advisers and distance from Cersei – he could be a good ruler – plus there is no way to PROVE he is not Roberts kid, not unless they admit it, so it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks.” She smirked in amusement at her girls rather smart thoughts, making her blush and look away awkwardly. She was far smarter than she let anyone see and far more capable at playing the great game than she wanted anyone to know.

\-------------

As she expected neither Robb, nor the Northern Lords took the news that Sansa had been married to The Kingslayer after being set aside by The Imp, well at all. They still didn’t know what had caused such a change either, though Ser Barristan did have some thoughts on it, as did Lady Brienne and The Hound. – Ser Barristans identity had remained hidden amongst their people of course – only a handful of their most trusted and true supporters even knew he was there. And it was those same people that they had entrusted their theories on WHY he had killed Aerys Targaryen to – in an attempt to ease that tension before they mentioned the idea of peace terms. On top of that they had introduced the idea of those rumours being just that and that Ned had been led to them on purpose, as had Jon Arryn before him, by an outside source; that the war had been planned by someone wanting to pit The Lannisters against The Starks and to destroy House Baratheon also.

Having her uncle in the Kings city as both spy and a means to get eyes on Sansa had actually been quite the boon for them. The Northern Lords were stubborn, and didn’t want to admit that they might all have been wrong, but some of them were slowly coming around to understanding that perhaps The Lannisters weren’t ALL the evil monsters they thought them and that maybe it could end without wiping them all out. And that was only working because they had a spy in place who could ‘hear’ the other side. It had only been she and Brienne present when Jaime Lannister admitted that he fathered his sisters children and pushed Bran out of that tower, and she hadn’t shared it with anyone. So the shadow of doubt was there. And truthfully, she wouldn’t ever share what he had told her now. For better or for worse, he was her daughters husband. There was no getting her boy back, but if she wanted a chance to know Sansa, she had to accept that that needed to be kept quiet.

And just as she knew she would, Arya had very coldly informed them that if they thought her sister a traitor for doing what she could to not only survive, but to get her own brand of revenge by being the one to raise the next generation of Lannisters, thus putting Stark blood and wolves in the lions den – then they were far too stupid to be considered decent advisors because such foolishness, would get them all killed. Then she proceeded to remind them that Sansa was the daughter of NED STARK, the blood of winter, the blood of Kings and she was a Gods damned wolf and they had better respect her for it, and for the fact that she knew more about what this war had wrought than any of them, because she had bled for it more than any of them and she was the one who had been forced to watch her father being executed.

She had snarled at them all like a vicious little beast and made her thoughts on it VERY clear, and when she was done, listing to them, the many different things Sansa had suffered for them winning their many different battles – something that The Hound helped her with, including being beaten for refusing to look at her fathers head on the spike and his having to pull her back from throwing Joffrey from the curtain wall for it, her daughter had held every single one of their very silent eyes and sat back nonchalantly and twirled her little sword as though she hadn’t just ripped their thoughts and theories on her sisters loyalty to the absolute seventh hell. Catelyn was more than happy to pick up her gauntlet for her and glare at them all coldly, arrogantly. They would learn well enough, if her daughter had any say in anything, that it was folly to act as though they had a right to judge the loyalty of a Stark to The North.

Not one of those Lords argued against Robbs plans to infiltrate Harrenhal to get eyes on The Mountain, not one of them argued when his own brother offered to help – and to help take him to Dorne alive. He only allowed for any of it, if it meant he could do so, with the intention of speaking to Doran Martell himself about being the one to kill the man. Robb had accepted that easily enough, explaining that he really didn’t care who actually killed him or how or why, only that he be captured and sent, subdued, but alive to Sunspear with the contingent of men whom had trickled into their camp behind Barristan Selmy, for that exact purpose.

That was the deal with The Viper, and that is what they would deliver. But they needed to take him quietly and free of suspicion too, something both her uncle and Ser Barristan had been adamant about. The man simply needed to disappear, if Joffrey learned of it, it would be Sansa who paid the price and all seven hells would break loose in Kings Landing, because Jaime Lannister would kill him for it, and any chance at peace would go up in flames. – So Arya and Brienne had shown them on an old map of Harrenhal, where everything was set up and where to get in and out, Brienne explaining that she had been held captive there whilst a rogue contingent of Lannister men torture Ser Jaime, cutting off his hand and beating him within an inch of his life – amongst other things, because he defended her and how he had come back to pull her out of the bear pit. – It was The Mountain who had thrown those responsible into the pit with that same bear too.

Arya didn’t bother explaining to them how she knew, just that she did and that she had escaped from there with a few friends at one point. And in the end it was agreed that they would send a dozen men in secretly to get eyes on things and set a small host close enough to engage if The Mountain rode out where they could actually take him without engaging in all-out battle. And it was Ser Barristan who supplied the answers to HOW they took him down alive, something he had merely explained that they really didn’t want to know how he intended it, but that he had means to put him down and keep him down until he was dropped, bound and gagged before Doran Martells feet.

Not one of those deemed stringently loyal had complained at all, when they informed them of the original information they received, in regards to the traitors in their midst, either, which meant that they had eyes they could trust on those that they couldn’t, and plans were underway for dealing with them. Sure, this new information meant that her daughter could never come home again permanently, but Arya was right to, eventually she would be welcomed back with open arms for visits – hopefully with her grandchildren in tow too, because it was Sansa who was winning the war for them, not that there was or would be any actual winners of course, only survivors. But it was about time their people understood everything that their PRINCESS had done for them too. Even if she herself felt sick at the idea, that she happily married a man like Jaime Lannister.


	2. So Normal, It's Almost Dull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in the Throne Room - following directly on from The 'ANNOUNCEMENT'.

It amused her, far more than it should have, all things considered, to have Jaime swagger over to her side, as though it was natural for him to seek her out, rather than the pointed display that it actually was, following the hilarious mess that was court. Joffrey had thought himself so clever for the play he was pulling that he had been practically vibrating with the excitement of getting to cause her such pains, and shame his uncle, whom hadn’t been bowing to his every command like he wanted him to. And Cersei had been so smug about tearing them apart that she too had assumed she had it all figured out. And it had taken all of maybe ten minutes, for Jaime and Lord Tywin to blow their combined plots to disavow Jaime, and marry him off to some lowly Tyrell cousin, to separate them, when they sent him and his ‘New Lady Wife’ off to Casterly Rock together, all to the seventh hell. They hadn’t seen it coming at all, and it was perfect. They couldn’t do a damned thing about it and they knew it.

Though it did surprise her that Joffrey didn’t try more, especially when it became clear that both Lady Margery and Lady Olenna had been aware of his plans – likely they were the ones to make them, being that it was Megga whom he planned to shackle Jaime to. Perhaps it was only because of Margery, that he held his tongue and didn’t try to arrest any of them, though he most definitely was shamed in front of her and that didn’t bode well for her in particular, but any of them in truth. The other one who had been obviously involved was Littlefinger and he was not at all happy with being twarted once more, though rather than get violent and act out like Joffrey likely would, he was already making new plans, she had seen it in his eyes. She just hoped that ALL of their allies were looking for the signs of return jabs, because they were coming. Not really matter to her at the moment because she had her knight slipping his hand along the small of her back and kissing her forehead in greeting. And that was infinitely more appealing to her, than muddling through the thoughts of her enemies.

She smiled up at him softly for it, utterly spellbound by how handsome he was in his armour with his signature cocky grin that he was sporting presently, because he was so pleased with how that had gone. And by the fact that now he could touch her in public if he damned well pleased. “Do you not have things you should be doing LORD COMMANDER?” Her husband snorted a laugh and waggled his eyebrows at her cheek. “Very likely, My Lady Wife, I am a rather busy man of late don’t you know?” She hummed in amusement. “Are you now?” He hummed in affirmation and shot her a cocky wink. “Indeed I am, see I have all of these differing factions of guards to pull into some semblance of order, as well as checking skill level and loyalty and weaponry and all of those tedious things, plus I need to actually continue to act for the Kingsguard until a new Commander is named at least, and then there is all of the lessons I now get to take with my father so that I can take over The West in time… PLUS! I have to do my duty to my house, and beget HEIRS – that’s actually the part I like best though – THAT I wish I could spend all my time working on.” She blushed heavily and squeaked in indignation as his Aunt Genna laughed beside them and then clipped his arm, though he wouldn’t feel it through his armour anyway.

“Leave that girl alone you scoundrel! You will be lucky if she lets you in her bed after speaking like that in public! – THAT was beautifully done by the way, but a heads up my dears, we are about to have company.” Sansa sighed heavily and steeled herself before pretending to be the innocent new bride, speaking and behaving entirely properly towards her Lord Husband whilst in public. Jaime had smirked at her in very clear amusement over her ‘masks’, but he held his tongue, opting for a gentle squeeze of her hip in silent communication.

“Aunt Genna! Lovely to see you, I apologise that we’ve not had opportunity to catch up, before now! Perhaps we could have tea or something later. Can I assume Aunt Dorna is away with Uncle Kevan and I’ve missed her?” Genna Lannister chuckled happily and embraced her niece as though she was actually happy to see her – and she might be too, she likely loved her, even if she could see she was a spoiled bitch too. “Cersei, she is yes, they have headed back to relieve Jenais nurse.” Sansa had to bite down on the rude scoff she almost let slip at the fake, saccharine smile that Cersei apparently wore, even for her own aunt. It was written all over her face, the woman didn’t even particularly like her own aunts – which said a LOT about her and about them too, curiously. “Jaime, Little Dove, I see congratulations are in order – though, I have already given them I suppose, being that we were already family. I am sorry to hear about your cloak though brother, I hadn’t even realised myself that Robert had done such a thing. – I couldn’t imagine why he would either, that’s the truly curious part!” Jaime smiled dangerously and nodded to her in stilted thanks; clearly not missing her obvious digs and angle. “I have no doubt Cersei. I imagine it was actually Lord Arryns answer to the issue of potential control over Father actually. Everyone knew Robert was concerned with how much influence he had over the court. – Sure he wasn’t smart enough to think of it, but Lord Arryn most certainly was. The man actually advocated for my removal and return to Casterly Rock from the very beginning of Roberts reign, so it’s not all that big of a surprise. The High Septon explained that he had no intentions of bringing it to light unless it was requested by Father, to save on the embarrassment for House Lannister, he only brought it to Father because Joffrey had plans to disavow me himself.” Cersei smile turned brittle, she clearly wanted a drink, but was being forced to behave because they were out in the open.

“Awful convenient timing I guess, especially when it worked so well with our brothers marriage being set aside.” Sansa smiled stupidly, not bothering to speak, she knew Jaime was the one who needed to handle this one, for his own peace of mind if for nothing else, she was happy to let him have at it. And she KNEW it was irritating Cersei, that she wasn’t reacting in any way too. “Actually, we have you and Joff to thank for that sweet sister, see Tyrion had only just spoken with the Maester about the possibility of his being unable to sire children – a point he thought to check, for how often you both questioned their lack of news. And of course, you are both madder than I actually realised if you believed Father was going to allow either of you to choose who suited the two of you best for MY BRIDE. You are also madder than I realised if you honestly believed I would marry against my will. Don’t think I don’t know what was planned Cers. It wasn’t even difficult to find out WHO he thought to marry me to. Father knew I would only ever agree if I could marry Sansa, thus? Perfect timing. Because it also answered the difficulties surrounding Tyrions tragic circumstances.”

Jaime grinned at his sister like a true lion on the hunt, she hadn’t noticed this side of him before, - of course she had seen him toy with them verbally at dinner that night, but he hadn’t actually been as angry as he was in that moment. As Tyrion would say – The Kingslayer was in control right now, because he was being forced to deal with his sister after she had tried to poison her. And after she had made obvious and frankly ridiculous plays against them all. And when The Kingslayer was in control he always just seemed to go straight for the throat in a blind rage when someone pushed his buttons. It was actually rather fascinating to see him combine the rage of one side of him, with the carefree and cocky other half and to top it off with the biting intelligence and courtesy of the Lord underneath it all. It was as fascinating as it was arousing, to see him like that. – In that moment he was very clearly the arrogant and self-assured heir to Casterly Rock. He was the son of Tywin, and it had never been more obvious. “See the issue, with all of what you just said brother? Is that you and Father both seem to keep forgetting, that my son is THE KING. He is the one who is supposed to rule here and yet you think nothing of undermining him. How do you suppose that looks to his people hmm?” Jaime snorted a laugh and shook his head. “I suppose that it looks like – FINALLY – someone is pulling the idiot into line, a bit. The Gods know you never bloody bothered to do so.”

“He is the King. It is his prerogative to rule Jaime.” Jaime hummed dangerously and narrowed his eyes, ignoring her silent begging for him to pull back. They were in the Throne Room after all, and everyone had noticed the Lannister twins roaring at each other – even if they couldn’t hear what was being said, thanks only to the fact that they had at least kept their voices down. “ENOUGH BOTH OF YOU. You are embarrassing yourselves right now.” Sansa sighed softly and thanked all of the Gods for Lady Gennas rather uncanny impression of her brothers cold fury. Jaime smirked and relaxed back slightly at his Aunts timely interruption. “Of course Aunt Genna, my apologies, I had forgotten myself, and the fact that my sweet sister has been unwell of late, SER GEROLD?” The arrogant cockiness was positively rolling off of her husband, in waves, as he flicked his wrist at the Lannister Guard standing back behind The Seething Lioness. “Don’t worry Cers, I’ll be sure to pass on your greetings and best wishes to Aunt Dorna and Uncle Kevan and I’ll let Father know that you are concerned that we have upset your precious son. I will let Ser Gerold see you back to the comfort of your room now, I have no doubt that the maids have restocked you carafes of _medicine_ to see you through until breakfast.” Sansa was hard pressed not to laugh at the mad rage that fell over her sister by laws beautiful features as she sneered at her husbands smirking face before twirling around and storming out in a swirl of crimson skirts and fury.

“You are incorrigible! – You do know we actually have to dine with her in the morning, and spend a rather large amount of time in her company in coming days? That is going to be a whole lot more interesting now.” Her handsome fool chuckled darkly and shot her a cocky wink. “Mmm we do, unfortunately! However? THAT - was a LOT of fun!” Sansa rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation at him as he grinned like a happy little boy, over getting one over his sister. “Right! Well, now that you have finished poking your sister with a stick Jaime – a curious enough experience for me – she doesn’t know how to take you fighting back at all - and I am a little frustrated that you didn’t do so more as a boy after seeing that! Anyway – let us away, I assume you have to meet with your Father or perhaps some of your knights and soldiers at least, and Sansa and I have to find Dorna and that wonderful girl of Tyrions and discuss apparel and gifts and such for the next few days – as well as those dastardly plotters, who likely have it in for our dear Lady of The Rock, now that their plans have been so spectacularly thwarted!” Sansa giggled in delight as the bubbly Lannister Lady tucked her arm into her own and led her out, forcing her love to fall in with her two laughing guards behind them. Genna Lannister was certainly something else! And Sansa thoroughly enjoyed her company – no exhausting and inappropriate the woman could be. She was, yet another Lannister - that she just could not bring herself to hate. No matter how surreal that thought was.

\-------------

The next morning dawned overcast and rather cold, which Sansa found entirely fitting. She personally wasn’t cold at all, but Jaime had complained something awful about having to be awake and get out of bed, which she found to be as amusing, as it was adorable. In the end she had taken pity on him on fed fresh logs into the fire to take the chill off the room, and climbed back in beside him to warm him up in a much more delightful way.

She blushed profusely at the idea of what she wanted, as she peppered his neck and chest with open mouth kisses and licks and tiny bites, happily leaving a fresh love bite on his neck where it would be seen by anyone who looked closely. She had been horrified when he informed her of the very first time she had done it, but after seeing how Cersei reacted to her being on his arm as his wife, she wanted to rub her face in it a bit, if she could. Plus after having faced plans to see them separated, as they had? She felt the need, to mark her territory, just as a wolf might. And she absolutely refused to be ashamed of such a desire. Jaime was HERS. 

Whilst they had only actually been intimate with each other since the day before their wedding – beyond kissing, she had quickly learned that Jaime thoroughly enjoyed her embracing her passions in their bed, so she didn’t hold back with him at all. Shae had told her that lovemaking should be enjoyed, so she was enjoying it and as long as it got results at some point, it was no-ones business but theirs what happened in their bed. So she refused to let what she was taught was ‘PROPER’, interfere with what was GOOD.

Her perfect, offensively handsome, love groaned as she moved further down his body, tracing the lines of his muscles with her tongue and nipping at the fleshy panes of hard muscle playfully until she was looking down at his VERY hard cock, from her kneeling position between his wide spread legs. The conflicted look on his face told her everything she needed to know. He was desperate for her to at least touch him and shocked and excited at the idea that she might, but nervous that he would offend her if he asked her to do it. And it was ridiculously arousing to see him wound so tight.

She held him loosely in a soft, teasing grip with one hand and traced the soft sack below his cock with tickling fingers. She knew well, that it was winding him up and frustrating him no end, because it just wasn’t enough to see him to his end. But he wouldn’t ask. – Maybe one day – after she had a little more experience in giving him such things, he might express himself vocally? But for the time being, she hadn’t even done… What she was planning on doing. – What he was HOPING she was doing. So he clearly wasn’t going to risk scaring her off, with his words. - Which she had to admit, that she was actually grateful for. It was nerve wracking enough for her to try it, without talking about it!

She leaned down and kept her eyes on his widened ones, smiling cheekily before she kissed the very tip softly and then licked around the smooth head slowly. “Fuck Sansa.” Her heart slammed in her chest and her nerves settled somewhat at the needy whine he let out as his head dropped back to the pillow as though it was filled with lead. She licked from the root all the way to the tip, just like Shae had told her to, and then she slipped her mouth over him to suck lightly, whilst her hands firmed a little in their endeavour, stroking at him slowly and playing and rubbing with the soft skin beneath his length, and the balls inside.

She watched him from below her lashes as he panted and groaned and almost struggled to keep himself from fidgeting until his good hand found her head, patting at her hair and threading his fingers into it as she sucked and licked and pushed him a little bit further into her mouth and relaxed as best she could – again: just as Shae had told her to. But she couldn’t help but squirm a bit herself, in a bid to relieve the building arousal between her thighs and moaning at how much she was enjoying it.

The groan he let out when she pushed him down into her throat and swallowed reflexively to stop from gagging was the first indication she got that he was losing his mind, quickly followed by his husky voice begging her to let him go before her finished – which she did not do, thank you very much! She did, however, squeak low in her throat in surprise when he gripped her hair tight and grunted as his seed spurted into her mouth and straight to the back of her throat.

She truly hadn’t actually expected it to be like that and she couldn’t help the amused giggle that she let slip once she released him when she was done, and had swallowed his seed down. Not only was he staring at the beds canopy in astonishment, completely spent? But he was patting her hair absently – almost like a puppy, too. Which was far more amusing than it was annoying. She had actually really enjoyed doing it – even the taste of his seed didn’t bother her at all, she could live without it of course, it wasn’t particularly delicious or anything silly, but it wasn’t bad, and she enjoyed everything else about it enough that she suspected she would enjoy doing it regularly – especially if he reacted like that.

Sansa crawled up until she was laying over his chest completely, resting her chin on her piled up hands and smiling widely at him as he blinked down at her in amusement. “Good morning.” She huffed a breathy laugh at his cheek. “Mmm, not so intent on not being disturbed from your sleep – because it’s TOO COLD, now My Darling Husband?” He grinned widely at her and rubbed lazy circles on her back with his hand, and propped himself up better on his right arm. “Mmm, actually! I was thinking that I will enjoy waking up on cold mornings, if I can expect that sort of greeting and I was also thinking that it is even luckier if that’s the case - because WINTER IS COMING! My hungry little wolf.” She snorted a laugh and whacked his shoulder. “That was awful! I can’t believe you just said that Jaime!” She couldn’t stop laughing at his waggling his eyebrows. “It explains so much! You are one of five children love! Six if you count Jon? It’s Jon right? Not important right now! - And your father was one of four wasn’t he? – I’d spend all my time in bed with you if I could at the best of times! But tell me true – what else is there to do when it is so bloody cold?”

Sansa shrieked and laughed and slapped at him and shuddered in equal measure until he rolled her over so that she was on her back with him over her, kissing her deeply, like he was trying to rid her mouth of the lingering taste of his seed. She hummed happily as he pulled back slightly and tucked stray hairs behind her ear. “I love you.” She smiled and stole another quick kiss. “Is it because I put your cock in my mouth?” Her darling barked a loud laugh and peppered her face and neck in smacking kisses for her cheek. “It is not – though I am not so proud that I can’t admit that THAT is a definite bonus, and one I will happily allow whenever you want! And if you want to do it regularly? I suppose I can suffer that hardship.” She snorted at his dramatics. “I thank you your generosity My LORD husband! I do aim to please though, so I wouldn’t want you to suffer because of something _I_ like but don’t necessarily NEED. I won’t do it, if it’s such a bother for you.” Jaime mock gaped and pouted adorably. “Alright fine – I will beg if I have to! Do you have any idea what you just did to me little wife?” She hummed happily and blushed.

“So you did like it as much as it looked like you did?” Jaime snorted rudely and cocked a brow at her. “I assure you love, having that pretty little mouth around my cock, is something I have fantasised about quite a bit and my mind did not at all, do justice to the real thing. You are incredible and that hot little mouth is incredible and as surprising as I found you actually WANTING to do that? I hardly had a chance to register the shock because it was just too good and too hard to focus on anything but what you were doing. I imagine I LIKED it far MORE than it looked like I did.” She smiled widely at that and ignored her heavy blush. “Well thank the Gods for that! – I found that so Gods damned arousing that I could barely sit still, so I’m glad it wasn’t just me!”

Jaime grinned like a predator and lifted slightly to slip his hand down between her legs and, in turn, his fingers into her folds to see for himself, oddly excited and amusingly playful about doing so, she giggled as he eyed her body in very clear interest and then shot her a wide, infinitely arrogant grin as his fingers slipped easily inside of her. “Sucking my cock did this, did it?” She hummed in affirmation and then laughed, despite her heavy blush, as he ducked down between her legs after giving her a smacking kiss. “That is a terribly fascinating and exciting turn of events love, lay back; MY TURN.” She moaned long and low as he groaned, licking into her folds in that deliciously sinful way.

She had been so embarrassed the first time he did it, the morning after their wedding, but she had let him do it as he clearly wanted and she certainly didn’t complain when he had her screaming his name as she peaked within moments as he suckled at the bundle of nerves.

She hissed lightly as he scraped her with his teeth softly before returning to his lazy licking, her fingers buried in his hair and her hips lifting to him as much as he would allow, with his arm over them to hold her in place. She cried out as he sucked at her, lavishing attention of the little point until her peak smashed over her like a giant wave, leaving her shuddering and shaking and twitching delightfully as she came down again.

“Gods I love you.” Her lion smirked at her and pressed a soft kissed to her still twitching parts. “Tell me true, is it because I just buried my face in your sweet little cunt, My Darling Wife?” She snorted a laugh at his returning her cheek and tugged at him to climb back up so she could cuddle into him and they could come back down to the ground together, like she liked. Sure, it wasn’t at all proper that they behave so in bed, but she enjoyed it far too much to care at all. She couldn’t help herself with him.

\-------------

The gift giving breakfast feast was actually rather dull in her opinion. Something she suspected was actually a result of Lord Tywins meeting with The King and Queen Regent, after court, the day before. She had been kept out of it thankfully, but both Jaime and Tyrion had been called into The Hands solar late in the afternoon. And she knew full well, that her husband hadn’t been taken to task for having his sister escorted to her chambers after their little tiff in the Throne Room. He hadn’t told her what was said in detail, only that his father had reiterated WHY he had done as he had and warned them both to not attempt anything so stupid again, reminding them that House Lannister were actually their only true ally until AFTER the wedding and that he was not a man to insult as often as they had. Which was a rather obvious threat – that really? He had been forced to make too many times already. The truth was, that if they didn’t fall into line after this last attempt? He would have no choice, but to answer accordingly. She just hoped that they realised that. And she kind of hoped they didn’t at the same time.

Because of the warnings, though? The breakfast had been relatively uneventful. Joffrey had sneered at the gifts he didn’t like and carried on like a spoiled child over the ones he did. – And as the families gifts would be given during the Wedding Feast itself, she really had no cause to be terrible interested at all, because she certainly was not interested in seeing which courtier had spent more in a bid to buy favour.

She had played the perfect Lady all the same, and behaved with perfect courtesy, even with both Jaime and Tyrion cracking jokes over everything and Lady Genna trying not to laugh as she took them to task for it. It was technically - her very first public outing as Ser Jaime Lannisters, Lady Wife too – being that the day before only served to announce their marriage, and because he was on duty, they did not present as the future Lord and Lady of The Rock.

As a result, they were bombarded with well wishes and gossip hungry feasters, during the breakfast, too – but only AFTER the focus died down somewhat from The King and his beloved future Queen. And it was only actually Prince Oberyn and Ellaria whom she was genuinely delighted to see and receive congratulations from. Likely they were the only ones who had actually meant it too.

– Oberyn had even gifted her with a jewelled dagger, as Dornish custom dictate. Apparently the custom speaks to it actually being re-gifted to the first born child – or more rightly the heir, so in their case, their first born son. And she found it to be incredibly heart felt and sweet, although extremely unexpected. It was also rather amusing that it was far nicer, rather obviously more expensive and extravagant, and clearly more meaningful than the one he had gifted The King and future Queen. - Though she knew better than to point that out.

And Lady Olenna had gifted her with a lovely dark purple stoned hairnet also, which she found interesting, considering she had been the one, for whom her plans for The Rock had been foiled. -But she had always been kind to her, even if she thought nothing of using Sansa as a pawn for her own ends. So it had been sweet all the same – at least until Oberyn had spotted it on the table before her and eyed it with a frown, before whispering low enough so only she heard him – that she should NOT wear it.

Other than that though, it was down-right uneventful. Joffrey had ignored them completely, in favour of being the centre of attention and Cersei had done no more than glare daggers at them and drink heavily. The Tyrells had been rather subdued and completely focused on Margery too, and besides the odd, curious look the future Queen shot her, a false smile or two. And the few irritated glares she got from Megga? She really didn’t have all that much entertainment there either, not outside of her FAMILY – Which was rather nice. She could have almost imagined, that it was how things were SUPPOSED to be – were they in peaceful times, with no wars or traitors or plotters or anything of the sort, going on around the court.

It really was rather ridiculous that what would be considered a _normal_ courtly event seemed almost boring to her, because she hadn’t spent the entire time fighting off cruel digs and vicious looks and witnessing mortifying behaviour. – But for the first time in a very long time, she wasn’t treated like some diseased outsider or like a mangy dog or like a training dummy in the yards to practice and sharpen their skills on. She was simply a Lady of the court and almost respected for it. It was a curious thing, being married to Tyrion hadn’t afforded her near the same level of peace. Perhaps it was simply that her husband was such a feared man. Or perhaps they had all finally realised that she was under the protection of Lord Tywin and thus, off limits.

One thing was for certain, she really liked being the Kingslayers wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN!!!!
> 
> How was that? Too much? Not enough? I have heavily edited what I had set down for this chapter, and left a whole section out that will be reworked into a separate chapter...
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	3. Intimacy Interrupted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twas the night before the wedding, and all through the tower..... Alright! I'll stop! Ignore me - but enjoy the next chapter!!

She was beautiful. His little wolf wife - stunningly so, in fact. She had been a pretty little thing all those years ago too. Not that he had particularly cared at the time, of course! But he had noticed her, which said quite a bit – at least in his mind. The truth was, that Jaime had been exposed to some of the loveliest women, in all of Westeros, over the years. He had been at Court so long, that he had all but become desensitised to it. It wasn’t even restricted to the LADIES of The Court. Robert paraded all manner of women through the keep, daily, and as a Knight, and as a Lannister? He had had his share of interested looks levelled at him too. Even before Roberts rule though, whilst he was still, very much a green boy? He had been faced daily, with glorious creatures – the likes of Ashara Dayne. Yet he had only ever had eyes for Cersei… Until Sansa Stark came along.

He took notice of her during their travels, not only because she was a pretty child, and at that point in time? Was looking like being raised up as the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and thus – both his charge, and his NEPHEWS Lady Wife? She had also drawn his attention when she spat frozen daggers from her eyes, over Robert ordering her wolf be cut down. He noted that she was smart enough to not speak against Joffrey, she was smart enough to be scared of what would happen if she did. But when she realised that they meant her wolf, when his vicious sister pointed out that they _had another, -_ that could pay for the crimes of the one that _attacked_ her son? She had shown real steel. And he had taken notice. Not that he would ever admit – even to her, that it affected him in anyway. But the point was, that he DID notice – and Jaime never noticed pretty women. Let alone pretty GIRLS!

Now? Now, that pretty little girl, with blue fire in her eyes, was his Lady Wife. And she most certainly was NOT a pretty little girl anymore. She was even more beautiful, than he – or anyone else, had expected her to grow to be. There hadn’t been a woman in all of Westeros who could rival his sister when it came to beauty – until his wife grew up. And now his sister paled in comparison. And not just, purely because the hateful bitch had madness lingering behind her eyes, and not just because he had come to see the truth of her nature, either. Though, that certainly helped to paint her in a very different light in his eyes. Especially when comparing her to the sweet, kind and frankly terrifyingly intelligent nature of his wife too. But because Sansa, was quite simply, the most beautiful woman, he had ever seen. And she was his.

It was a strange notion for Jaime. To be a married man. A future Lord. To one day, have small people underfoot, calling him Father. He had _never_ wanted it… At least that is what he claimed, even in his mind as the years rolled on? He had told himself that that wasn’t HIS life – HIS desire. He had become so adept at stating that he wanted only two things – Cersei, and the sword in his hand. – That he had simply started to believe it as truth. Especially after Aerys died, and he consigned himself to a life of servitude, a life in the shadows, in a bid to… Piece together whatever he could manage to salvage, his reputation. - And possibly the strangest part out of all of it? Was that, his reputation, his HONOUR? Had somehow taken LESS of a beating, since secretly marrying his lover, who was both his brothers wife first, and born of a family in open rebellion to The Throne.- RIGHT under The Kings nose! Than it had for ALL of the years that he served Robert faithfully. – Or as faithfully as it had seemed on the surface, at least!

Even with the rumours flying, over his potentially having cuckolded his little brother, he hadn’t suffered as harshly from the gossip, than he had, simply being THE KINGSLAYER! And he could only assume, that it was a direct reflection of the TRUE thoughts, in the minds of the people, in regards to Sansa. YES! She was the traitors daughter. And YES! The majority of them had stood by as she was so publicly shamed and abused. But perhaps Tyrions idiotic japes, that they would be the next Aemon the Dragonknight and Queen Naerys, wasn’t so far from the truth? Perhaps thoughts on HIM had turned, because he loved her? Because they could all see that she needed love and protection, after everything? - And perhaps he was making things larger than they were, and he was waxing poetically in his mind, to justify how wrong he was to have denied wanting this exact life for himself, for his whole damned life too!

He was a LANNISTER for The Gods sake! It wasn’t an easy thing to admit that he had been very wrong. And yet, he wasn’t entirely wrong, necessarily either… Because he only wanted this life now, because he got to have it, with the most beautiful creature, that the Gods gave breath to. And because that gloriously, stunning, kind, sweet, smart, Lady, LOVED him in return.

The truth was, that it was very likely, his attempts at being some fop, who waxes lyrically too! Because he had thoroughly enjoyed fronting The Court at large, during the Breakfast Feast, of THE Royal Wedding, just that morning, with his Lady Wife on his arm. Sure – it was a tedious, and painful event. But only because Joffrey was a spoilt brat, and his future Queen, was a simpering twit, and because being a part of The Court – rather than simply a guard at the Kings back, meant being exposed to, and expected to interact with all of those insufferable idiots. But he HAD had fun showing her off. He had even enjoyed parts of it, because he could relax, with her at his side. He could share japes with his brother, and tease her relentlessly, and laugh with his FAMILY. And that was all because he had had to set his vows aside, to marry her. It was all because of her, and it was all for her.

And maybe a small part of him, was just in a good mood, because of how she encouraged him to wake that morning too. – Yet another fantastic boon, to his being a man wed! Not being forced to hide the nature of his relationship, in the shadows – because there wasn’t a thing wrong, with a man being openly enchanted, with his Lady Wife. Where there had been MANY things wrong, with a Kingsguard Knight cuckolding The King he was sworn to serve, to have relations with his Queenly TWIN SISTER. And Jaime LIKED being out of the shadows – every bit as much as he liked his little wifes, hot little mouth wrapping around his cock, to say good morning, in the most delicious of ways!

Quite simply? Jaime had had a fantastic day – on this, the first day that he and his wife made an actual Courtly appearance together. He felt good, about the drastic changes his life had taken of late. He looked forward to what they would mean for the future – even if that meant that he had to play the stupid games, alongside his wife and brother and Father too. He would accept all of those things that he hated about being a High Lord, easily, because she would help him through that. And they would get to celebrate – nightly, if they so chose. And tonight? He was choosing. Because his little wolf was as hungry for him, as he was her – if the knowing glint in those shining, molten, sapphire eyes, was any read indication. – Which he KNEW it was!

Sansa was startled from her reverie, which in turn, startled him from his - by a low, quiet knock at the hidden door in her bedchamber. Jaime paused in his actions of washing, and eyeing his wife like she was a tasty treat, just waiting to be devoured, to stare at it incredulously for a moment before looking back at her, in question. “Lord Varys maybe?” Jaime shrugged at her and picked up his sword, he wasn’t wearing anything but breeches, as they were preparing for bed. But he hardly cared that he was nearly naked and brandishing his sword. He didn’t necessarily think it a threat, because, in his experience? Threats didn’t KNOCK. But he would be prepared all the same. He gave her a reassuring nod, and she watched from her seat at her dressing table, pulling her robe tightly around her, as he slipped the key into the lock and opened it slowly, primed and ready with sword in hand.

“Now that’s what one expects to see when they sneak into a married Ladies bedchamber after the dinner hour no? An angry and armed husband! I did tell you it would be rather more dangerous now that she is The Kingslayers wife, did I not, My Love?” Jaime sighed in exasperation and lowered his sword as The Prince of Dorne and his lover stepped in past him, both wearing wicked grins and eyeing him openly. – Much to his wifes, apparent, giggling amusement, and his own discomfort. “Mmm you did My Love. And now I also understand why our sweet wolf was so determined to have this one for herself! I know you said that it makes no matter to you that he is so handsome, My Lady, but I believe that perhaps the Gods were smiling on you all the same, no?” Jaime didn’t know how to react, as his wife let out a husky laugh, and then greeted the woman with a kiss to the cheek and a hug, before offering her hand to her Prince. It was rather surreal to him – because the woman HAD eyed him like HE was a tasty treat, himself. – And instead of scratching her eyes out – or threatening to destroy her and her entire family? His WIFE HAD LAUGHED? He was also curious over the Dornish womans words too – but not more so than WHY they were there at all!

“Much as I am happy to see you both; I think you best explain why you are here before my husband decides he doesn’t actually find it amusing that The Viper and his lover know how to get into my bedchamber.” Jaime smirked at her and cocked an arrogantly, amused eyebrow, making her blush heavily and wave at him awkwardly to join them, from his perch, leaning into the hidden door, sword still very much, in hand, so they might sit. “I would say, that it’s a good thing your husband already knew they could get in to your bedchamber WIFE. But yes, Oberyn – I would like to know WHY you are here right now?” Sansa smiled at him sheepishly. “I actually meant to tell you that we are friends, but I kind of forgot actually – you are rather annoyingly distracting, I hope you realise that.” He snorted a laugh at her and kissed her head, before propping his sword, back by the bed where it always sat, and flopping down beside her on the window seat, not even bothering to put a shirt or tunic on, as he did so! It was his damned bedchamber! He’d go mostly naked, if he damned well pleased! His wife, was thankfully – mostly covered by her silk robe though, and that was just as well. He hadn’t actually lied about being a possessive and jealous man.

The Prince smirked in amusement and lazed back into the divan. “Much as I would actually prefer this visit was more… social. I am actually here for a reason.” Sansa blushed hard at his innuendo, whilst Jaime snorted a rueful laugh and narrowed his eyes in warning – though he recognised it for the joke it was anyway, a warning couldn’t hurt. Even if the idiot Prince found it amusing. “The hairnet? It was a gift from The Queen of Thorns, no?” Sansa blinked in surprise and nodded, remembering his interest in it when he had seen it, just as he did. She stood to retrieve it without being asked and handed it over to him automatically.

Oberyn nodded in thanks and pulled it out, studying it closely as he did and cursing softly. “Do NOT wear it – in fact, it’s probably best you get rid of it all together - or at least hide it well.” Jaime sat forward and leaned his elbows into his knees in an almost menacing bid for answers. Oberyn leaned forward, across from him, and pointed to two differing stones – one a few hues darker than the other, until they were in the light, and then they looked identical. “It is called the strangler: a rare and brutal poison with no known cure, there is no _sickness_ , this? A single drop will kill you. It closes the throat and bursts tiny blood vessels as it does, because it constricts so hard. So the victim not only ‘strangles’ themselves, they bleed heavily from their mouth and nose and eyes. – Enough so that the blood itself is also toxic from the mouth. It can be hidden like this because it is in rock form, until it is dissolved in liquid and it is one I, personally have never, ever, even kept – let alone used, because of the danger and the unnecessary cruelty of it. – See how it can be confused with a standard amethyst? - It is also a hard poison to procure – one would need send to ESSOS for such a thing. It is NOT common here.” Jaime sucked in a shuddering breath, as the Half Mad Dornishman met his eyes pointedly. They had an answer to what poison Baelish was chasing… And now they had a thousand and half questions more, that needed answering.

“You my dear, are being set up as the fall person for whomever Olenna Tyrell wishes to kill – at the very least, you were being used as a means of getting this poison into _wherever or whatever feast_ she hopes to USE it at, without notice – and it was Littlefinger who procured it for her.” Sansa froze at that, whilst Jaime cursed rather colourfully and tugged her against his chest. She was shaking – violently so. She was both crying, and struggling to breathe, and he could do nothing for her for the moment, but hold her, as he attempted to reign in his own outrage – and the overwhelming desire to simply, find and kill that old bitch in her bed, and be done with.

Ellaria kneeled in front of them both and took his sweet, little wolfs hands tightly, squeezing them and breathing deeply at her, trying to help calm her. She sucked in a shuddering breath and forced herself to calm before pulling back enough to let her him see she was alright; or at least as alright as she was going to be with what she had just learned. He knew she wasn’t anywhere near alright! But he also recognised the mask she was lowering, to protect herself – and so she could FOCUS that brilliant mind too. “Jaime?” He hummed quietly in question. She swallowed hard and looked up at him. “We need to tell your father.” He nodded deftly in agreement. “I’ll go once we settle this here. I am not about to call him in here with Oberyn present, love.” She let out a tired laugh at his poor joke and shook her head, before nodding in understanding. And he was grateful – truly. Because he was struggling to contain himself enough, without her pushing the control that he was no longer in possession of, too much.

“Alright – do we have proof that Littlefinger is the one who sourced it?” Oberyn nodded slowly before wincing. “Talk in his establishment mostly, but if the papers are still around? – That is where they will be: in his office. THAT will need to be tested and proven for what it is by at least one maester – for the sake of proof. But plenty of us saw Olenna Tyrell give it to you. The biggest issue is that we don’t know WHO it is for – necessarily, though I do have my suspicions, of course.” Sansa sighed heavily and let out a rueful laugh and shot him a knowing look. He knew. They all did. And much as he knew that it would come eventually? It still made him feel a little bit sick, all the same.

“Joffrey.”

She hummed in agreement to his cracked, barely audible whisper. “She won’t want him actually touching Margery, but she wants her crowned his Queen too – and I am the obvious target for blame because who wants him dead more than me? – It also gets me out of the way and leaves the heir to House Lannister, an unmarried man when my head rolls.” Jaime groaned in frustration and closed his eyes, as he kissed the top of her head heavily. “You know? It really is getting rather ridiculous how often your life gets threatened, Little Wolf. I’m tempted to simply never let you from my side!” She chuckled tiredly against his chest, and leaned into him affectionately. “You know? I think I’d be alright with that. The Tyrells are a surprise, not that I trusted them exactly, of course! Especially NOT after their little attempts to take you off of me! But I didn’t expect that they would potentially harm me either – FRAME me, I guess? It makes no sense either, I meant what I said. - If I am to go down – I’m taking my enemies with me. I guess my thwarting their plans for The Rock, was poorly received.”

“You’ve too much potential power. It makes you a threat to Margery.” His wife snorted rudely and cocked a brow in question at Oberyns almost lazy observation. He tapped at his knee with a sardonic grin and shook his head at her as though he couldn’t believe she missed it. Truthfully? Jaime was a little shocked that she had, as well? Sansa did not miss much, but she had missed just how much power she held, herself? “You are the Lady of Casterly Rock – YES! I know the title is not actually yours yet – but you are. Lord Tywin is a widower and has been for many a year. You are Jaimes wife – that makes you The Rocks natural Lady – the title will be yours one day and you likely will serve as such, long before it actually does become yours. – But what makes you the true power, is that it is LORD TYWIN who has put you there. To top that off? Your union will likely be recognised as the turning point in this war – Peace will be had as a result. Those foolish Storm Lords were too focused on killing each other and failing so miserably at what they did actually try, and Balon Greyjoy is an old fool. The ONLY significant parties in the _WAR OF FIVE KINGS_ are House Stark and House Lannister, and their subsequent allies. – Margaery Tyrell, will be Queen for however long, - that is true. But YOU will be Lady Lannister and you already have three Kingdoms, in theory, to support you - without looking at whom you are tied to through Jaime, or simply friends with, such as with myself. They see you as a threat and they do not like it. – That is why they tried to marry Jaime to one of theirs – Tyrion is the SECOND son, Lord Tywin confirmed YOUR power, when he put you up, instead of letting it play out.”

Sansa groaned in annoyance and flopped her head back to stare at the ceiling – processing Prince Oberyns words, and noting just how right he was. Jaime had assumed that been part of her plan – but perhaps not to that degree? He KNEW she wanted peace, and even her own brand of revenge, in the form of taking both HIM and Casterly Rock, for her own. She had never hidden that from him. Which was perhaps WHY it surprised him, that she hadn’t realised all that Oberyn had just shared, already. - Of course? She likely hadn’t meant to court new enemies by seeming to be more powerful, either? It just, was NOT in Sansas nature – He knew his little wife well enough, to know that she wanted peace for their warring families, barring only those few, who could never TRULY be forgiven their trespasses. - And otherwise, she wished to be left to live and love, with him and their future children. – He knew she could settle peace around the realms too, and so did she, again, she had hardly hidden it – when she had all but gift wrapped The Mountain, for the man before them. But she was going for subtly in doing so – not for the notoriety of having done so. If she wanted the praise, she would not have made their interactions so quiet.

But, of course, The Tyrells would react poorly, they wanted to be seen as the darlings of the realm. Which was a rather snort worthy thought! Those upstarts had some hide, coming at the ancient families, as they were. And they would learn their lessons well for it too. – If not? They would serve to prevent other upstarts from trying it in the future, by the time his Father was done with them!

“Alright! We get Qyburn and The Grand Maester to look at it together in the presence of Lord Tywin and let him deal with that end – if she asks why I am not wearing it during The Wedding Feast or if she asks after it at all, I will tell her one of the stones came loose and I had it send to be fixed that morning – tomorrow morning, if it IS the Wedding Feast, she means for me to wear it at, that is? - That should have her on the back foot and too nervous to try anything further until she hears more. Otherwise I will pretend that I know nothing of their issues with me, and stay beside you completely tomorrow Jaime.” He nodded deftly and cupped her cheek affectionately. Gods! How he loved his darling girls, brilliant mind. He did NOT love how many people there were, trying to do harm to her, though. That he hated, very much. “Daven and Addam at your back at all times outside of here too – Bronn and Pod at the very least, will be on Tyrion and Shae too, just in case. – Oberyn? Set something up to get my wife and sister by law, out of here, if things go the wrong way… PLEASE.” The Prince nodded deftly, clearly hearing the desperation in his voice. He was NOT sure about entrusting his wife, and that of his brother also, so completely, to The Dornish – but they had Myrcella too, and so far, had proven worthy. Plus it was becoming more and more clear, that the mad pair before them, had a definite soft spot and a good healthy respect, for Sansa. She would be safe with them, if it came to it. And that was all that truly mattered to him.

Oberyn grinned widely at him, in amusement. “He let him marry his lovely Lorathi girl?” He huffed a tired laugh and scrubbed at his face. Of course the fool didn’t miss that. “He did. To protect his legacy.” The man hummed softly in amusement and cocked an arrogant brow at him. “Because it did not matter, once he had what he wanted, you mean?” He couldn’t exactly argue that. But he could – and did, roll his eyes all the same.

\--------------

It seemed almost unnatural to Jaime, to trust any man alone with his very beautiful little wife, especially when she was clad in nothing more than her nightgown and robe, especially when they were – for all intents and purposes, holed up in her bedchamber and most especially when said man had the reputation of the likes of Prince Oberyns. But perhaps what felt truly unnatural about it, was that he actually did trust him instinctively. Oberyn didn’t at all, hide the fact that he found his wife attractive, nor did he hide the fact that, if she was interested in a dalliance with him, he wouldn’t turn her away – not even if Jaime objected. He also found, curiously, that his usual violent, raging jealousy, was completely unnecessary with his sweet little wolf. – She had no interest in anyone other than him sexually. And if he was completely honest with himself, he found that as fascinating and bewildering as he did pleasing. – He felt the same of course, he had no interest in anyone but her – not anymore, and certainly not since voicing what he truly did want from her. But it still amazed him that she loved him at all, let alone enough that she noticed no one but him, like that. He knew also, that Oberyn would never actually touch her, unless she wished it – which she clearly didn’t, so even his jokes didn’t actually bother him – all that much.

But Jaime hadn’t left them ALONE entirely either, he had sent Shae in with them, and dragged his brother behind him, locking their still combined chambers and entrusting Oberyn to keep them both safe, should anyone attempt enter through the hidden passages. He actually couldn’t think of a more fitting, or more amusing punishment for The Viper – or his lover in fact; than to be guarding two beautiful Lannister brides, clad in their bed clothes, in a bedchamber and not be able to act on anything at all. – It served him right to be forced into a situation like that, that would have him both confused and highly aroused.

Because, instead of stripping his breeches off and working his way between his loves long legs, like he had hoped to be doing by now, he was slipping down the hall and up the stairs to sneak into his Fathers personal chambers – unnoticed if he could, with his brother. - Because the Mad man had knocked on their chamber door, and given them some very necessary information. - It was utter madness! Rather than stripping her clothes off and lavishing attention on every inch of newly bared skin, she was ordering him to put his boots on because:

_”Jaime Lannister! You are not walking the halls of The Tower and presenting to your Father, with bare feet! Don’t be ridiculous!”_

He had thrown a shirt on! AND his sword belt – plus, he had already been wearing his hand! What did he need boots for? – It would only be one more hindrance between naked him, and her spread thighs! And he had told her so – even if he did as she bid, with a grumble and donned his boots too.

Tyrion and Shae had both gone into rages enough to make his appear rather dull, when they explained what was going on; and he hadn’t even needed to tell Tyrion what he needed of him. His little brother simply jumped up and waddled into his room to dress more appropriately – not needing to be told to put boots on – and grabbed his axe, just in case they were accosted in the hall. – However unlikely. He didn’t do more than smile knowingly at him; because hadn’t he done the same? – Even down to passing his wife a dagger before kissing her head and slipping out of the chamber quietly.

Jaime winced and shared a look with his brother as their Fathers guard stared at them incredulously before knocking on the door to his private apartments with definite fear for his own safety. But he was smart enough to note, that both he and his brother were armed and thus, it was far more dangerous to his health, to deny them access.

He and Tyrion both jumped slightly – amusingly like naughty children, when his father ripped the door open violently, and glared at them incredulously for a moment before stepping aside and ordering his guard to silence as well as informing him, that they were not to be disturbed. It felt strange to see his father not dressed immaculately. The man was a God is his mind; seeing him in a long silk robe with slippered feet, seemed ridiculous, to say the least. – He didn’t ever remember seeing him in such a way, in his whole life.

“This had better be good.”

Jaime bit his lip against a laugh at the low growl. There he was; despite looking like an actual man in truth, The Great Lion was still, very much there; and Jaime felt relieved, rather than intimidated – as he probably should. “We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t Father. I don’t know about Jaime – but I have self-preservation enough to not venture into the Great Lions place of personal refuge, with anything less, than the full, understanding that doing such a thing, was actually, the SMART thing.” Jaime sighed in exasperation at his brothers cheek, whilst his father narrowed his eyes at him dangerously.

He held the hair net out silently and waited as his father studied it in confusion. “EXPLAIN.” He sighed heavily and nodded to it. “A gift, to Sansa – Prince Oberyn spotted it and was concerned – he approached me later over it AND requested that he be allowed to inspect it. – Look closely – here.” He pointed to the two stones laid out in his Fathers hand. - Showing him the differing colours and shine, and then lifting it to the light of the fire to show how it went unnoticed in the light.

“This stone isn’t an amethyst, which was what he noticed and why he asked to see it. – It’s a poison, called the STRANGLER.” His Father took it back into his hands and studied each gem slowly – oddly similar to how Oberyn had done so. “Someone tried to poison her AGAIN?” Jaime cleared his throat uncomfortably at the reminder that his sister had done so once already. “No. It is safe unless it is ingested apparently. – She is being framed for someone elses murder. - If she wears that? There is a likely chance, that a stone will be plucked from it and dropped in a goblet and the one who does it will get away with it – because she is the one wearing the evidence.” His father cursed softly under his breath and clenched his fist tightly, before waving them to sit on the divan and turning to look into the fire pensively. “Who gave it to her? Is she involved in anyway herself? What interest does Oberyn Martell have in it? And what plot do you assume, we have stumbled upon?”

Jaime rolled his neck tiredly and licked his lips. It frustrated him that he suspected her – but in truth, he did actually understand him asking. His wife was a very dangerous woman and his Father knew the truth of that as well as he did. Even if he knew far better, than to think POISON, was her style. – She WAS a Stark, after all. He supposed that he could just be grateful, that he hadn’t asked why they were there at such a LATE HOUR! THAT would be interesting to try and exlain, or excuse. “She had no knowledge of it and she is rather put out, that she was made a target. – Her being made a target, gives us answers though. – It was a wedding gift from Olenna Tyrell, and Oberyns interest is purely that he actually respects Sansa, and sympathises with her suffering at Joffreys hands. He was just being kind to her, by checking. – He didn’t want her being blamed and used in anyway. – As for the plot – I think it rather obvious. Who would that old bat want dead, and who would she kill that would require shifting the blame to SANSA of all people?” His father huffed heavily and stalked over to sit across from them as he continued to glare off into nothing, as he thought it all over. “She means to kill him and pass the blame onto Sansa – AFTER her granddaughter is crowned. It gives them access to The Throne. – Though not as much as she would like, if the vows go unconsummated? Blaming Sansa removes her from competition with Margery for power, too though – and it gives them a window into The Rock again, when you are available for marriage once more?” He nodded deftly, but held his tongue. He knew his Father well enough to know he wouldn’t appreciate his speaking further.

“Do we know how she got her hands on such a poison?” Tyrion cleared his throat beside him. “Baelish. – There have been whispers of him procuring a rare poison from Essos – I told you that the other day, if you remember. – I had yet to find out the details, but Prince Oberyn overheard some of his whores speaking of it too.” His Father let out an almost feral sounding, derogatory scoff – that sounded almost more like a growl, in truth. - Something that both amused and astonished him. And yet it didn’t at the same time. Because he was feeling every bit as much anger, as his Father was. As his oddly serious Little Brother was, also. “Baelish, either doesn’t know she is using Sansa as her fall person for it, or he has other plans that differ from hers. – He doesn’t want Sansa executed for treason. – It’s possible he intends on having her cleared of the charges and asking for her hand when you dissolve her marriage to Jaime, because of the scandal – or he possibly has plans to kidnap her or whisk her away, once she is suspected and arrested.” Jaime scowled and growled low in his throat at that, oddly reminiscent of the noise he had just been admiring, from his Father. He decided then and there, that he would simply kill The Mockingbird, and be done with it.

His father tapped his chin in thought and looked back at the hairnet, fingering at the stones as he calculated it. “Jaime – have your maester sent to me first thing in the morning – he and Pycelle can look at this together, and have it noted that it was brought straight to me as being suspicious and I had it tested. I want two opinions in case we need the evidence and Sansa is not to leave your side or MINE, at all tomorrow. – I want guards on all of you – your wife included Tyrion, and stay with your Aunts – no matter what…. I want Baelish and I want him now! - Will Prince Oberyn speak to his knowing about the poison?” Jaime blew out a heavy breath and shrugged noncommittally, he really didn’t know if the half mad Dornishman would actually talk to his father or not. “I can ask him. There is a fairly good chance that he won’t want to be involved, unless it becomes necessary to him for some reason. He likes and respects Sansa, and he is TECHNICALLY an ally to The Crown, via Myrcellas betrothal to his brothers son. – That doesn’t mean he will go out of his way to help us bring down an enemy either. He DOES HATE us, after all!“ He ignored his Fathers derisive snort and rolled his neck, in a bid to relieve the tension in it.

“Baelishs girls will talk though, if we can guarantee them safety from him. We can also send someone in to search his papers at his pillow house. – Oberyn would likely help with THAT. He is rather angry about someone attempting to use such a cruel poison. BUT! Any mention of poisons and he becomes a suspect himself, because of his knowledge. I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t help any further than he already has.” His brother cleared his throat beside him and pursed his lips in thought. “But if Prince Oberyn Nymeros Martell happened to be keeping a distant eye on Lady Sansa LANNISTER of House STARK? Should a secondary plan be followed out somehow? He clears her of suspicion immediately – NO ONE will believe that a Martell would willingly LIE to cover anything up for a Stark, who married a Lannister. He wouldn’t be able to actually engage with her, to personally keep her safe – that would MAKE her look suspicious; but say he was simply watching her, because he is fascinated by recent rumours and scandalous unions, and because she is rather beautiful and we all know how he feels about beautiful women?”

Jaime narrowed his eyes at his brother pointedly. “You think I should ask The Red Viper to WATCH my very beautiful wife – openly?! Good gods! He will be undressing her with his eyes all day!” Tyrion snorted a laugh and shot him a shit eating grin. “You mean like you did whilst she was technically MY very beautiful wife?” He gaped a little, before snickering and blushing heavily. He actually couldn’t even deny it. The little shit had him there. “You may be outraged over such a thing LATER Jaime. For now? You will allow it. Tyrion? Speak to Prince Oberyn. Jaime? Have your man here before dawn, to set things in motion. Now, GET OUT. Apparently, I have work to do.” They had barely reached the door, before they were stopped again, by that cold, determined voice. “See to it, that you get your peace talks moving sooner, rather than later too, Tyrion. I think it best, that Jaime retire to The Rock, with his wife, sooner rather than later. And I’ll assume that she will wish to see her Family, when opportunity arises.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone needs a friend like Oberyn... Even if he is a bit of an obnoxious flirt!
> 
> Anywho! WHAT will The Great Lion do with this new information I wonder??


	4. The Consummation of Alliance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a wedding. And an angry, vengeful Lion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS! I have to apologise for the delay! I had not intended on taking quite so long to update this work, unfortunately it simply took me a bit to figure out my direction and get it written!
> 
> Anyway! I hope that you enjoy what I have put together! And I will try my best to not let it get lost in the growing sea of my collection of WIPs again! Don’t worry - it won’t be abandoned, even if it does take me a bit to get back to it!

The Great Sept was cloying, stifling. The air was thick with candle smoke and the stench of incense, too many roses and heavily applied perfumes. The sunlight was at war with the the flickering of the candles as it tried to filter its light through the coloured glass of the domed roof, and the clouds and wisps of smoke and flecks of dust hanging overheard, from the lack of breeze. And the press of the bodies was positively crushing. Not for himself, of course. Thankfully the people of the Court piled up like rats in a barrel, knew well enough, to allow he and his Family space, to at least breathe comfortably. Or as comfortably as one could, with the stink of such wasteful extravagance.

The ceremony was long, as was expected of a Royal Wedding, presided over by the High Septon. It was the fourth time he had witnessed such a thing, yet the formalities were the only thing that made the current mummers farce, anything remotely alike the three previous Royal Weddings he had attended. Where Cersei had been golden and glorious, and Elia Martell genuine in her happiness, and Rhaella Targaryen as regal as a Queen who had served a lifetime for her crown - at just thirteen name days? Margaery Tyrell, was a simpering twit, with a false smile and a sense of entitlement that was ill fitting with the desperation for attention that was clearly shown in the excessive decoration, of both herself and the Sept. As for his Grandson? Even Aerys had had better control of his madness and vanity, than the vainglorious and arrogant fool stood between The Father and The Mother presently.

He endured the ridiculousness of the whole show, only because it served his plans, to do so. He had thought on the possibility of seeing the fool boy dealt with through the night, and having the blame laid squarely where it belonged - upon the shoulders of those who had planned to see him dead anyway. Except that he was feeling particularly vengeful, after yet another attempt to undermine him, and yet another attack on his sons wife. He was beyond incensed and insulted, and he had a reputation to uphold, as well as a war to see put to bed.

His Grandsons demise would appease his enemies, it may even encourage them to do away with ridiculous desires to remain apart from the rest of the Kingdoms, and govern themselves under a different crown. It had come to light, that they had all been manipulated into conflict. But his son and his daughter by law were both correct. He stood no chance of a peaceful resolution, while ever Joffrey remained among the living. And they were also correct in stating that there would be no end, if Sansa Stark perished whilst under the protection of his House and name. They may be willing to move beyond the many insults thrown back and forth between their Houses, up until this point. But they would not accept that, any more than he would. She was the key to The North. 

Yet The Tyrells had thought to use her as their scapegoat. HIS daughter by law. His sons wife! The sister of the self proclaimed King in The North! The girl was connected to half the Kingdoms, all of whom HE was currently still at war with, - not to mention his own son being utterly smitten with the chit! And those jumped up commoners thought to frame her for regicide and treason, after he had made it clear that she was under his protection.

No. He had thought that dealing with the situation swiftly and succinctly, might have been wise. But it would not send the message that he intended it to. If they were willing to sell themselves like common whores, to put on the ridiculous display of wealth, that this tasteless and graceless debacle of a wedding was? If they wanted a crown for their precious Margaery, no matter the cost? He would allow them to have it. The girl wanted to be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, she would just have to get on her back like every other married Lady and Queen before her has had to. She would be a Queen, in deed as well as word, and she would die beside her King, exposed to the same manner of death she and her family had planned to use, to raise her up upon the corpse of her new husband. Because HE would be the one orchestrating her fate now.

But first they would all suffer the indignity of having the adoration of the Court focused exactly where it should be. Well away from them. It had taken he and his brother and sister both, far longer than he’d have liked, to see results from the plans they had set in place, once his sons had left and he had called for them, the evening before. But it had paid, to be somewhat patient. And now his eldest son and heirs wife, was gowned in a quickly altered, but very fitting and elegant gown of Gold which had been taken from her own wardrobe, so that the measurements were correct. It had been acceptable enough before, but now, it simply screamed regality, grace and the wealth befitting Lady Lannister. Even his younger sons little whore of a wife was well represented and resplendent in a simple, yet stunning crimson gown befitting a Lannister bride, wed to a second son. Further more, both were bejewelled with rubies and diamonds and Lannister gold, unfortunately borrowed from his sisters own collection, as he had not had time to see to newly commissioned pieces. But they had sufficed.

The message was clear, they were Lannisters. And the next Lady of The Rock was even more elegant and regal than the newly crowned Queen. So much so, that people could be forgiven, in his mind, for mistaking Jaime and Sansa FOR King and Queen. And he couldn’t be more pleased by that fact.

——————

Tywin watched, with disgust concealed only thanks to the decades of experience he had, at masking his thoughts, with arrogant disinterest. As his foolish Grandson and his twittering bride made a mockery of themselves, by turning their own wedding feast into a deliberate series of insults aimed at those that would challenge their power. Rather than simply enjoying the day for the sake of enjoying it, and keeping the focus on their happiness, and the happiness of the realm, over having a new Queen. He hadn’t even needed to assist, in making his family appear to be simply BETTER than them. They made themselves look utterly ridiculous, and he had absolutely no intention of putting a stop to it.

Not only was such the gaudy extravagance of seventy seven courses of food, on the back half of war, and on the cusp of what promised to be a long winter, whilst the crown is so far in debt that he could simply BUY the thing, and the small folk were starving in the streets, completely inappropriate? But the use of a troupe of dwarves as mummers, acting out a tournament involving the leaders of the ‘War of Five Kings’, was very clearly an insult to his son, as well as those connected in anyway, to those on the other side of the war. Which included not only Sansa, but also the newly crowned Queen and her family. It was common knowledge that Loras Tyrell had been Renly Baratheons lover. It was the reason that the blasted Queen was still a maid, despite having been married to the man. But the idiots were either too stupid to understand that, or they simply didn’t care. And that wasn’t even taking into account that they had employed the standing entertainment of fire breathers and sword swallowers and NAKED contortionists, as though any of those types of performances were acceptable for The Court! It was inappropriate, dangerous and the fire was a visual reminder of The Targaryen dynasty that some people still felt insult over the loss of.

And whilst Joffrey truly sold himself as the son of Robert Baratheon, with the amount of food he unceremoniously shoved into his mouth like a Gods damned pig, rather than a King! And the wine he slugged down around his bellowing and roaring taunts, and childish demands. As well as the way he pawed at his new wife, as if she was some lowly tavern wench or a whore paid to accept his attentions as though she enjoyed them? His sons, the BOTH of them, and their wives, sat straight along the end of the high table, beyond his own seat, and that of the Crown Prince, acting with perfect decorum and irritating the fool at every turn, by refusing to entertain his desire to draw them into any sort of drama. Drinking and eating and engaging each other and those who stepped forward to speak with them, in quiet conversation. This seemingly completely at ease, and behaving as the Lords and Ladies that they were - even the one whom was NOT raised to know HOW to do so.

He could even own to a sliver of pride, for the fact that the Imp had successfully talked his way out of being ordered to either ‘join in the fun’ and ride one of the pigs with the performing dwarves, and also playing the part of cupbearer for the drunken buffoon that was THEIR KING. And perhaps even more pride in the fact that Sansa had shown no visible upset, when the dwarf playing ‘King Joffrey’ knocked the Crowned wolf mask from the one play ‘King Robb’. Or when the idiot thought to taunt her over it, by running forward to retrieve the wolf’s head to dump on the table before her and commanding that she kiss the bloody thing. She had even reigned in Jaime’s impulsive desire to react violently, with nothing more than a gentle hand laid over his arm.

But by far, the thing that he was most pleased by, was the fear that flicked in the eyes of both QUEEN Margaery, and her scheming Grandmother, when they realised that Lady Sansa LANNISTER or the House STARK, was not wearing the hairnet that they had gifted her. The KEY to their murderous plans. He would go so far as to say that he enjoyed that they were forced to understand that the marriage would be consummated, and it would be done with his vicious Grandson far enough into his cups, to both need quite a bit of stimulation before he was fit to perform, and with far less control over his temper and his true nature. Which was perhaps cruel of him? Especially when he intended to lead his idiot of a Grandson to the idea that the bedding should be witnessed, by some of his guards whom would not fail to do his bidding. But they had earned such treatment when they decided to poke at the lions. When they purposely tried to control them, on more than one occasion. And when they thought to punish their she-wolf turned lioness, for being a vastly superior woman, to their own precious little rose. He had been and could be far crueler than that, if they thought to push him again.

——————

He leaned in close, keeping his eyes trained on the guests before him. “Your Grace, might I suggest we move on to The Bedding Ceremony, before you are too far into your cups to perform your duty?” He wasn’t really asking, and he could well have simply called for it, and let the crowd take up the chant. But he owned to wanting to hear the fear in the girls breathing, personally. The boy scoffed at the implied insult, and then grinned and cackled with an almost mad glee, drawing his eyes to him, and the ashen and pinched face of the girl beside him. “If you indulge much more, I fear you may require assistance and witnesses to ensure consummation is possible.Or you will be unable to perform at all, and the marriage will not be valid until you ARE able to do so.”

“Thank you for your wise counsel Grandfather. I believe it IS time to retire. You need not fear my ability to PERFORM, as you can clearly see, My Queen is the fairest maiden in all the lands, I WILL claim what is now mine, so that all of The Seven Kingdoms know that our marriage is true. And I will have two witnesses, of your choosing, if you will? I’ll even allow for one to be yourself! It has been some time since you have had a woman yourself, I imagine. Perhaps my performance will encourage you to seek out COMPANY of your own.” He sneered at the smug little shit, growling slightly in warning as his eyes narrowed dangerously. He flexed his hands where they were clasped behind his back in a bit to prevent himself striking the fool down right there. It would be worth it, to wait. But that insult would be answered, as all others before it would be. 

Joffrey waved a lazy hand and slugged at his wine goblet again, spilling and dribbling it down his chin like a drunkard. “No matter. Choose who you will. You may rest assured Grandfather, there will be no question of the validity of my bride gifting me her Maidenhead.”

He cleared his throat to hide his satisfaction, and his still thrumming rage at the previous insults. He kept his face devoid of any emotion, and met the eye of the simpering rose as her face drained of yet more colour. “One of your Kingsguard shall suffice, Your Grace. Ser Osmund Kettleback was to be on duty at your door this evening. If you desire a witness whom will both speak to the validity of the consummation and respect the right for discretion pertaining to private details. Any more than that may be considered an intrusion and an insult to your Queen and her family.”

The girl cleared her throat and let out a small twitter of breathy laughter after sipping at her wine. She laid a stroking hand on his Grandsons arm and offered a ridiculously false shy smile. “Perhaps we could ask it of Loras, My Love? I’d feel far more comfortable with my brother being the only one to see us together? And I know he would never speak to anything beyond confirming that we have done our duty?” 

Tywin scoffed rudely, interrupting the foolish boys crazed grin. He needed to curb THAT before the idiot become too enamoured of the idea of making the young knight watch as he fucks his sister. He knew well, that no consummation would take place, if he allowed the girls brother to ‘witness’ it. They would either knock him out and fake the blood on the sheet, or get him drunk enough to pass out and do it. And then claim he must have blacked it out due to the wine he had consumed. And he wouldn’t have it. “Your Grace, it would hardly be appropriate to have your BROTHER in the chamber, whilst you lay with your husband. It would be scandalous, and there would still be the potential for the validity to be questioned, BECAUSE Ser Loras is your brother, despite the cloak he now wears. He has been detailed to stand guard for Prince Tommen this night, to save him the discomfort of hearing the two of you.”

Joffrey shrugged carelessly and lifted the hand resting on his arm to kiss the girls knuckles in a charming, and almost gently calming manner, that wasn’t fooling him or her. But it served to give the appearance of his placating her. Apparently the silly chit still hoped that she might come to have some control over him. Never mind that his treatment of Sansa was proof enough, that there was no controlling the boy. She only need make one wrong move to earn his ire, and he’d be every bit as brutal towards her as he had gotten the taste for being, with the first girl who had been set to be his Queen. Perhaps even more so, because she now belonged to him.

“Kettleback and Blount will join us inside of My Queens Bedchamber to bare witness, and they will report directly to you and the High Septon, with the sheet upon the morrow. Call for the bedding Grandfather. Let me see to claiming My Queen.”

“Very good, Your Grace.”

He stood and waved to the herald to call for attention, feeling rather like a Lion, closing in on his pray. The price of alliance with House Tyrell was a crown, and they would have it, but not before the girl so desperate to wear it, earned it with the blood of her maidenhead. With it, the debt for their assistance in beating Stannis Baratheon back, would be paid in full. He had said nothing about how long that crown would grace that head however.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is ALWAYS appreciated!
> 
> Currently I am grappling with what, where and how, I want to move on from here. I have ideas, it’s just a matter of settling on one!


	5. Better Her Than You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding Part Two.

She was trembling, her breathing coming in short, stabbing bursts. Her chest was beginning to hurt, and her eyes beginning to blur as waves of disorientation swept over her. It was taking everything she had, to hide it and to keep from swooning because of it.

All day she had felt as if she was walking upon the edge of sharpest of blades, balancing between two gaping pits of fear and despair. Each step cut, biting into her feet and making them bleed just a touch, but not so deeply or so much as to cause her serious harm, provided she remained steady, calm and poised. One wrong move and she would slip, the weight of her body, her loss of control, allowing the honed steel to slide through her until only garish, bloodied pieces were left.

She could blame it on a fitful sleep, except that she had slept heavily, if only in small handfuls of moments. Her handsome, foolish husband had been particularly attentive and insatiable upon his return from his Fathers chambers. He had wanted her again and again and again. Wasting only the barest of moments, conveying the plans that had been settled upon, and shuffling the Dornish pair from their chambers as quickly as he could, without seeming TOO rude. Before he was all but carrying her to their bed. And he had woken her repeatedly throughout the night. Not that she had complained, and even when she had pouted and thought to refuse because she hadn’t wanted to move from her comfortable position, he had managed to sweet talk his way into her letting him have her, exactly where she was, by slipping into her from where he was laying behind and pressed against her - which she hadn’t even known he could do! 

She couldn’t blame that though. Because she had slept well in the small breaks they had taken to regain their strength. And because she had felt well rested and very sated, upon waking properly, just in dawn, too. And more importantly, she felt so wanted and loved, knowing that he was as desperate for her, because of his own fears over the implications of that hairnet, and what it could have meant for them, had Prince Oberyn not noticed those damned stones, or not been there too thwart that plot.

She could even blame the hairnet, and The Tyrells rather dangerous plot itself too. Except that she hadn’t even known that it had been meant for The Royal Wedding, until Lady Olenna made a comment about how LOVELY she looked in Lannister jewels. Her words spoke to kindness and courtesy, as she had come to know from the woman. But her eyes spoke to anger and fear. As did the curiously blank looks being shared between her and her Granddaughter, and the dimming of colour in both of their normally smiling, sun kissed faces.

But it wasn’t that either. It have been because they had a new Queen. And as Tyrion had pointed out when she had dropped those exact words in the sept, barely managing to contain her sarcasm as she breathed the words for only those closest to hers ears?  ‘Better her than you.’  He had been correct. Better Margaery, than her. Even if there was a part of her that was horrified by such a thought. The wolf inside of her was howling in celebration over the fact that it would never be her, forced to endure Joffreys attentions. His violence and cruelty. Or his bed.

Like Margaery, she had wanted to be Queen, more than anything, once upon a time. But she had learned that the price of the crown was far too high an ask. Margaery had known all along, what that price was, and yet she willingly pushed for it - manipulated her way into in anyway. She had told her herself, that Joffrey was a monster. And now she knew, she never meant to pay that price at all. Lady Olenna never meant to risk that. Never mind that the fools seemed to forget that the only way to actually have the claim to the title and the crown and the throne, was to pay that price. They meant for HER to publicly murder Joffrey, before he had the chance to visit his cruelty upon his bride. And for that, she wasn’t ashamed that by the part of her that agreed with Tyrions words.

And because of Prince Oberyns keen eyes, and her friendship with him, as well as the unflinching, unfailing and fearful protective nature of her lions, Margaery would now have to face the marriage bed, as was expected of every new bride. And she had never been more grateful to be a Lannister in her life. Which was NOT something she would ever allow to be vocalised. She had ACCEPTED it, that didn’t mean that she necessarily LIKED it. She would not even voice such thoughts to her husband, or her once husband and friend turned brother. They both knew what it meant for her, to now carry their name, no matter her feelings for them as individuals. It pained her. And yet both of the incorrigible fools, had taken far too much delight over Lord Tywins ‘gifts’ that allowed her to slight The Tyrells, without slighting them at all, for not wearing their brides gift to her. 

She LOOKED like a Lady of House Lannister, in the quickly altered gown, that had once been her own wedding dress, and the heavy jewels and gold hanging from her neck and wrists and even weighing down her fingers. As did Shae, in her far simpler and in her mind, much prettier, crimson silk, and slightly less elaborate jewels and gold. She WAS a Lady of House Lannister, she would be THE Lady of House Lannister one day. But she had not been FORCED to endure the marriage bed to have that. She had been gifted the choice, and with it, a LOVER, who took his time and ensured she was ready to have him claim her body. One who took delight in teaching her that she could find the same pleasures he could, in their coupling. Not a cruel monster who would delight in the blood he would find coating his cock when he was done taking her, whether she was ready or not.

Her senses had been alert all day, for all of those reasons. Fearful, that something would go wrong, and she would still wound up in danger of being accused of regicide. So she had been focused on taking in as much as she could, whilst trying to appear calm and serene on her husbands arm, and beside her FAMILY. Giving off the very image, of happy Lannister bride, and decorous Lady of multiple Great houses. Whilst never forgetting the titles bestowed upon her before she was a wedded woman. The ones that claimed her traitor. 

Yet the moment that the bedding was called for, her wolf hid away somewhere deep inside of her, and let the fear of it all crash down over her. It wasn’t HER bedding ceremony! She hadn’t even been forced to endure one herself, as Tyrion had threatened the King for suggesting it, and Lord Tywin had stepped in, sending them on their way. And then with Jaime, it hadn’t been necessary - and truthfully? She didn’t think he’d have allowed it himself either. He’d have probably put his sword through someone for being stupid enough to suggest it. But that wasn’t the point. The point was, she feared the unknown. She feared being ordered to take part in stripping Joffrey. And she feared the reality that it COULD HAVE been her in Margaery’s place. She feared what the girl whom she once considered friend, would have to endure. And she feared that it was her fault. Because she hadn’t worn the hairnet that would have allowed them to kill the man who called for her Fathers head. Even though they had known and willingly pushed for this anyway. Even though it was an expectation of every bride, to be faced with the marriage bed, and the duty of gifting their husband their body.

——————

“Giggle for me love.” Sansa blinked in confusion and turned to take in her amused, but yet very clearly concerned loves, glorious green eyes, after the soft words tickled over her ear with teasing lips and hot breath. And she smiled ever so softly, against his lips as he leaned in and kissed her mouth, right there at the high table, completely uncaring of the impropriety of it. “Calm, My Love. It’s not you that has to endure either their grabbing hands, or his attentions. You won’t ever have to face that. I won’t allow it. I’ll kill any who even think to try it. Don’t let them see your fear.” She swallowed hard and let him see the overwhelming love she felt for him in that moment, for his having understood her unspoken thoughts. She took a page from his book, and threw caution to the wind, to relax into his steady strength. Resting her face against his ever so slightly as his false hand come to rest in her lap, and he turned himself more fully towards her. “Shall I actually endeavour to earn that giggle I asked for, do you think? Or will it suffice if I scandalise the court entirely, by cuddling with you and stealing kisses, to get us out of taking part in the ridiculous tradition of stripping the HAPPY COUPLE?”

She let out a shuddering breath and gripped his forearm, close to the elbow, and above his brace. “I can’t Jaime. I can’t be that close to him. I just... I can’t.” He hummed in understanding and nuzzled a kiss to her jaw and below her ear, making her blush profusely as he made his affection for her rather more scandalously obviously. Using exactly that, to protect them both from being forced to take part in the disgusting practice, by ensuring that most would not wish to approach them whilst they were clearly sharing a private moment, right there where anyone could see them. Had she looked, she might have found the burning hateful glare of her loves no longer lover and mad sister. And the highly entertained smiles of her Dornish friends. And the irritated and harshly reprimanding look, that hid a small amount of wistful pride, of her Father by law. Or the frustrated or enraged or terrified glares, of the few who wanted a very different ending to the festivities that were the Royal Wedding. But she didn’t look, too caught up with finally being able to breathe, thanks to her darling knight, and the sad little smile he pressed softly against her neck. 

“And you don’t have to, because now you are thoroughly distracted by your needy, inappropriate husband, who just can’t handle how spectacular you look, especially with the HAPPY and ROMANTIC atmosphere, and the few extra goblets of wine he has indulged, and the amount of creamy soft skin he has access to, across your lovely shoulders and collarbones, and up you lovely long neck.” She did actually give in, and give him his giggle, as she pulled his face from her neck and forced him to meet her eyes, with her hands tightly cupping his sharp, handsome jaw, and his neck slightly too. Thankfully noting the dying down of noise, as the laughing, cajoling and whistling revellers carted The King and his Queen away, leaving the rest of the guests to enjoy more subdued entertainments for a time longer yet. She smiled softly in relief, finally relaxing some, and nudged his nose playfully with her own.

“You’ve not indulged of any more wine than you would normally Ser.” His waggling eyebrows made her laugh and then shriek slightly as he played it up and nuzzled at her face and neck again, whilst pulling her closer and tickling her a little, with his good hand, as it slipped between her back and the seat, to reach her side. “Haven’t I? How else am I to excuse such inappropriate behaviour, My Lady!” She huffed a laugh and pushed him away again, before pressing forward and kissing him soundly, much to the hooting and hollering entertainment of The Dornish contingent, and the giggles of the little prince, and snorting and coughing laughter of their little family, within the much larger, much less loving family.

“Should I carry you out of here like a wildling, do you think? Toss you over my shoulder and away to our chambers so I can ravish my beautiful wife?”

“You should unhand your beautiful LADY wife, and afford her the respect of being able to maintain her decorum. I advise waiting a time longer yet, perhaps sharing a dance or two, and mingling with the other guests for a few moments - and then retiring, WITHOUT pawing at the poor girl like you wish to eat her. You’re a Lannister, not a fool, or a peasant. Act like it.” She blushed profusely and bit her lip to keep from laughing, or possibly from dying of utter mortification, as she pulled away quickly and straightened herself, lifting her wine goblet swiftly to her lips, in a bid to appear composed. While her husband groaned dramatically at his Fathers reprimands and almost flopped like a petulant child.

“You know? I was actually starting to enjoy this ridiculous affair! And you have to come along and ruin all my fun Father.” She gulped a little harder at her wine and whacked Tyrions leg under the table for the choking snicker he let out. Jaime may not have imbibed overly much, but his brother clearly had. Though not nearly as much as he had, at times before, so that was something at least. All the same, he didn’t need to encourage Jaime poking at their Father either. “Perhaps I need to reassess my claims that you are not a fool. Lady Lannister, might I have a dance with my sons wife?” She blinked at him in shock for a moment, and flushed as she choked ever so subtly on her sip of wine, before shaking her mind clear of the absolutely horrific moment that caused her manners to fail her. Before she regained her senses and smiled demurely and nodded, allowing him to help her from her seat and place her hand on his arm, very properly. While Jaime sputtered in very obvious shock and a little bit of trepidation that she hoped appeared more like a bit of startled jealousy to others, rather than the clear concern it actually was.

She curtsied deeply and met his hands with her own as he pulled her into position. Her nerves firing enough to almost make her want to sick up everywhere. She hadn’t expected to dance with anyone, but Jaime if he wanted, or perhaps Ser Kevan. She didn’t doubt that if it was no a danger, given the circumstances, Prince Oberyn might have asked her also, and perhaps a few of his men, and some Lannister men also. But she did NOT expect Lord Tywin to ask her for a turn about the floor. As far as she was aware, the man never danced. And much as she knew she was safe in his company? It frightened her, to be so close to the man. Not as it would have to be forced to dance with Joffrey? But still, she was intimidated, at the very least.

“You’ve done well today. And you certainly suit Lannister colours and gold. I will speak to my son about having jewels commissioned for your own personal collection, and an increase to your wardrobe also.” She swallowed down the bitter retort, that had become an automatic reaction at being dubbed a lion, and smiled. Noting the mild amusement flickering behind the moss green of his cold eyes, stating that she hadn’t succeeded as well as she’d have liked. “Thank you, My Lord. For my attire and the use of Lady Gennas jewels for today also.” He hummed quietly low in his throat and navigated them gracefully around a turn. And she flushed at the realisation that they were alone on the floor, and all eyes were on them. 

“It is expected that the future Lady of Casterly Rock look the part. And much as amethysts and silver may suit your colouring, they are ill fitting for a Lady of your station and pedigree. Though I am sure I need not actually explain that to YOU.” She smiled softly up at him, reading the sarcasm behind his dry tone easily. And appreciating the small twitch he allowed her to see, at the corner of his lip. Tywin Lannister was a proud and serious and very dangerous man, who disliked smiles and distrusted laughter. But he apparently was not without humour. Which was an interesting discovery. “All the same. You have done well today, as have my sons, and the other girl also. Up until a few moments past at least. Though I realise there was a purpose behind it, try to control him a little better than that in public.” She snorted softly and shook her head.

“You speak as if it is easy to control Jaime, My Lord.” 

“You seemed to do well enough containing his impulses prior to that.”

She bowed a light nod in defeat, and let the conversation pass. She had prevented him from even losing his tongue on more than one occasion as the day progressed, and he found cause to be angered or insulted on her behalf. So there was little point denying the mans point. Though she disliked the idea that she should control her husband either. He was his own person and well within his rights to make his own choices known. She had only been trying to prevent him from punching the King in the face at The Royal Wedding.

“I would meet with the four of you, on the morrow. Shaes presence is not entirely necessary, however I’ll allow it, given the obvious bonds between you all. The Tournament does not kick off until the following day, and we have things that need discussing beforehand.” She nodded deftly in understanding, and followed his elegant lead, as he twirled them around, as the music hit its very mild peak, before cutting to a single long note, to bring it to a finish. She curtsied again deeply, and allowed him to raise her again, with dry kiss to her knuckles, as he did so, before taking his arm and allowing him to lead her back to her seat, as the quiet applause died down. “Perhaps we can share the luncheon meal, My Lord. A simple family meal?”

Lord Tywin looked down at her quickly, before releasing her to pull her chair free of the table once more, allowing her to lower herself into it neatly. “I shall inform the staff, My Lady. Thank you for the dance.” She smiled softly and nodded as she returned the sentiment quietly, before he stepped away, to find his own seat once more. She wasn’t an idiot. His dancing with her was a rather obnoxiously loud statement. One which even had her husband startled into silence, as he added it all up and processed what had just happened, himself. Not only had his Father draped her in gold and jewels and finery fit for a Lady of the highest station? He had danced with her - and ONLY her. - It was a warning. She was not to be touched or threatened again, or the wrath of Lord Tywin Lannister and the Lannister army would fall upon those who made themselves enemies, by doing so. 

“You just danced to The Rains of Castamere, with The Great Lion... You do realise that my Father has only danced ONCE since my Mother died? - And only because it was expected that he dance with My sister, at her own Royal Wedding? He doesn’t appreciate that song being played unless it is before or during battle either. He usually refuses to allow it at celebrations because of that.”

She sipped at her wine and studied the crowd with an almost bored air, in a bid to hide herself away some, and appear completely unconcerned by the reality of the threats just delivered, as Jaime smirked at her in very obvious amusement, and just a little bit of pride and fear too. They all knew what it was, everyone knew what it was. “I don’t think anyone missed that Jaime, and that was the point. Now perhaps my fool will ask me to dance too? Purely so we might lighten the mood again - and not at all because I want to dance with my handsome Knight before all of these people, and see if I can’t make all the Ladies incredibly jealous?” 

She smiled coyly and then laughed as he leaned in close and nipped at her ear in reprimand before pressing a kiss to her cheek and standing offer her a flourishing bow. “As My Lady Wife commands. I apologise in advance, apparently I have just come to learn that I am not nearly as graceful as my Father!”

She took his hand and afforded him a cheeky smile as he raised her to her feet anew, never mind her blush. Or the excitement that was thrumming through her entire body, at the prospect of dancing with him. Now that she had relaxed the strangling fears that had kept her so wound up all day. She bit her lip as she realised that she was about to dance with her exceptionally handsome knight of a husband, before a large portion of The Court. It was a childish fantasy coming to reality, and much as the entire Royal Wedding had been ridiculously over the top, the backdrop of twilight in the Gardens of the Red Keep, was a beautifully romantic setting. 

She dropped into a curtsy quickly and allowed him to pull her far closer than was appropriate. Even going so far as to settle her hand upon his nape, rather than his shoulder as was proper, and smiling serenely up at him. “I don’t believe for a moment, that you are anything LESS than a wonderfully graceful dancer. You don’t get to be as talented as you are with a sword, with two left feet.” Her love smirked at her in amusement and pressed his lips to her forehead softly. “Well I won’t step on your toes, beyond that, I make no promises. And I have absolutely no intention of maintaining an appropriate distance or posture either. I like touching you too much.” She snorted a small laugh and smirked at his amused look, as he pulled back to look down at her. “I couldn’t tell.”

“My Lady wife, I may have advised that I’d make no further promises in regards to our dancing. But I will solemnly vow, before all the Gods, that I will endeavour to prove to you just how much I LOVE touching you, all the long night. Because when the moon shines, my wolf? I am yours and you are mine. And I did also swear to put many, many babes in your belly. I mean to keep every word I swear to you.” She gave in and giggled at his dramatics, as he twirled her around on the dance floor of the now much more relaxed Royal Wedding feast. 

Poor Margaery may well be facing the worst night of her life, but she should have known to expect it. She could empathise and even feel pain over what the other woman was very likely facing. But better her, than Sansa, herself. She would sacrifice the chance at a crown every single day of her life, if it meant knowing the love of her DISHONOURABLE knight. She would have sooner wed a bastard born peasant, than sold herself as Joffreys Queen. But thankfully, she would never have to settle for anything less than love. Even if she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge what she felt once upon a time. And even if she hadn’t wanted it to be common knowledge either. It was what it was. There was no hiding it, now that it was out there for the world to know it.

She smiled shyly and blinked at him through her lashes. “Jaime?” He hummed softly in question and rubbed his hand, almost unconsciously, across her back, in an openly loving gesture, completely uncaring of their surrounds or potential audience. “I love you.” It was worth the nerves that took her, at the idea of speaking so, in public. The surprised smile, and astonished light in his eyes made it worth it. As did the firming of his grip on her, that pulled her ever so slightly closer to his chest, and the lingering kiss pressed to her temple. “And I love you, Sansa. Only ever you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😬


	6. History is Written by the Victors.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chat between wolves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Riverrun for a bit!

“We need to talk.”

It was undignified of him, made even more so by the satisfied gleam in her almost unnaturally cold eyes, but the yelp of surprise that left his lips unbidden, was not at all manly. Nor was it masked by the scowl he levelled at her for having snuck up on him, yet again. He SHOULD be used to it by now, except that for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out how she kept managing to pull it off! Of course he could ask or even order her to cut it out? But King or no, Arya Stark was not going to heed his words. Even less so nowadays, than when she had been the wild little beast of a girl, tangling he and Jon and the rest of the older boys and men up, by being constantly under foot, where she was not supposed to be. And for as much as it was almost undermining, and definitely disrespectful? He couldn’t help but let it pass. Because he finally had one of his siblings back, and it felt too good to not be so entirely alone. Even if he had reservations about WHO and WHAT she had been forced to become. At the end of the day, she was his sister before she was anything else. One he would be forced to push into behaving as expected, and complying with his commands as her King, or as her liege Lord at the very least, in time. That time was not yet, so he would allow such things for as long as he could.

He shot her a stern look of reprimand all the same, but held his tongue, as he waved her into the solar more fully, indicating a chair by the far side of the table and the map laid out before him. He didn’t know what it was she wished to discuss, but he could use the reprieve from his tangled thoughts. He could also, maybe even hint at needing advice. - Without asking her. He didn’t want to acknowledge that his tiny slip of a sister had somehow weaselled her way into becoming one of his most knowledgeable and important advisers. Less so, because he was the elder of them, and the man, AND King, and more so because he just knew that to have the insights that she did? The last years had to have been very hard on her. In ways that life should not be harsh for young ladies born to major houses. The first points were valid, of course, he couldn’t afford to look weak, and deferring to his younger sister, who despite being a woman grown technically, had still yet to reach her majority, would make him look exactly that. But he was more concerned with the fact that his sister - both sisters from everything he had come to learn, had learn to be players in this great game, out of pure necessity and desire to survive. They had been suffering, whilst he commanded an army to war, celebrating victories and blindly trusting the wrong people, dishonouring himself by breaking his word, making mistakes. Getting his brothers killed, and almost every one else because he hadn’t seen the plots of traitors in his midst. He hadn’t even seen the traitors. He had to concede, that they were mistakes his sisters wouldn’t have made, because it would have meant their heads, if they were as naive as he had been.

Robb sighed in exasperation with himself, and his internalised self pity, and turned his attention to his sister. He didn’t know how to take her, the strange little woman who stared at him silently, from behind his darling sisters face. She was fourteen name days, her features had sharpened and her body and rounded in all the places it was supposed to, but she was a young girl still. - A young girl with the eyes of a crone, and a tongue that could cut like Valyrian steel. Her presence and request would distract him from awaiting news from the men sent to subdue The Mountain at least. Even if she did look like whatever was on her mind, would potentially be an uncomfortable topic for him.

He leaned his weight into his hands, the table sturdy and solid enough to support him without creaking. “What did you wish to discuss?” His sister shrugged lazily and sat forward to study the map curiously, eyeing the markers with a furrowed brow and an unnatural tilt of her head. “First and foremost? I’m not marrying a Frey. Or anyone else for that matter. You may be my King now brother, but I promise you, if you attempt to shove me into a chamber naked, with any man? I’ll cut his cock off before it has opportunity to harden in my presence. - Which, in turn, will cause you endless head aches, when you are forced to deal with my having killed your ALLIES.” 

He groaned dramatically and shook his head at her. Years ago, he’d have sputtered and even laughed at such violent threats from such a little girl. Now however? He had to allow that such threats may not be as idle as he’d like to think them. And now, he had to force those issues, because her future was on him, with their Father having been murdered. “I’ll not be marrying you to any traitors Arya, and I won’t be marrying you off anytime soon, if I can avoid it. But you will have to marry eventually.” He stopped her protests with a raised hand and a pointed look, and swallowed hard. “It is my hope that we can end this war soon, and without needing to make that move. In which case, I will allow you to choose for yourself, provided it is someone of appropriate station. And you will accept my ruling on the matter.” She snorted rudely and glared at him so dangerously, that he almost felt as if he was a rabbit and she a hungry wolf, intent on tearing him down to feast on his entrails.

“Appropriate in station? Like you wed someone appropriate in station? I will accept only that you’ve determined I not marry the stinking Frey that Mother decided to try to sell me to! And YOU will accept THAT! And now that THAT is established? I want to know what happened at home. What happened with Bran and Rickon and Theon. What IS happening in The North?” His own eyes narrowed dangerously right back at her, as the full weight of his emotions slammed into his chest, like Grey Wind at full speed. Finally she was hinting at what she thought of his Queen. Or more correctly, what she thought of his having married her. He had hoped that his family at least, would accept his needing SOME point of happiness, with everything he had had to endure himself, even if his men could not, because of the tactical mistakes and issues it had created. But apparently it was only acceptable for Sansa to marry and flaunt her lover, and find defence with their little sister.

He breathed slowly, forcing down the violent words of reprimand, in light of the rest of what she had said. He wouldn’t let it go fully, she WOULD fall into line, and respect his position as her King, if nothing else! But it could wait for now. He almost deflated entirely, the pain of heartbreak and betrayal winning out over if raging insult, as he thought on his brothers. That had been his fault. He had trusted the wrong people. And now their home was char and ash and scarred, blackened stone, his brothers dead at the hands of someone they had all seen as a brother. And his Kingdom overrun with enemies, and disloyal men whom he had let down.

“HOW DID THEY DIE ROBB? Who has control of Winterfell? How many traitors are wreaking havoc on OUR people and OUR lands?” She was angry, but at least with those words, he knew it wasn’t aimed entirely at him. She was fair vibrating with the storming swirl of her howling, raging, anguished, wolfs blood. But it was turned away from his actions and focused on those who had betrayed them, from their own side. He could empathise, he hated them with even more of a burning passion, than anyone, but for Joffrey and Baelish. He hated them even more than he hated the Lannisters, with whom he had been at war for years now. Her emotions were feeding his own, like fresh logs on a slow burning fire.

He swallowed hard again and tapped the markers on the Northern side of the map. “I trusted Theon, and he raided the North, rather than bringing his Father, as an ally to our cause. He killed the boys, behea... Beheaded them, and burned their bodies, before trussing them up at the gates as a warning.” He paused and swallowed down the pain that was attempting to close his throat, whilst still allowing her to see the agony he felt still, with the tears clouding his eyes. A match to the ones pooling in her own. “I tasked Lord Bolton, with sending a force from The Dreadfort, to hunt the whole of them out, and retake Winterfell. Theon burned it to the ground, before the men got there. And they’ve been fighting them back ever since. The Iron Born, hold Moat Cailin, at the very least, and they continue to raid along the west coast.” He sighed wearily and drew her eyes towards Karhold. “The Karstarks took their men and returned North after I beheaded Lord Rickard for murdering prisoners. And I’ve come to learn that Bolton is a traitor who has been plotting against me for Lannister gold, prior to Sansa making her moves to bring peace, and finding the common enemies. The TRUE enemies... I can’t afford to continue to fight for another mans throne, our Kingdom is in shambles, our home an abandoned ruin, our people in danger from my enemies, and yet I cannot leave until either peace is met, or there is no longer a threat to the Riverlands... And I need to see that Sansa is... Well, at least, I guess.”

He watched her as she stood and moved around the map, studying different points and letting her eyes flick from one point to another, clearly thinking, clearly calculating. Likely to distract herself from the details he hadn’t attempted to hide from her, in regards to the boys. She didn’t yet need to know, that most of the household had either perished, run or been taken prisoner. It would only hurt her more. Anger her more. She tapped the Dreadfort, and then Winterfell. “Who sent word that the boys were dead at Theons Hand?” He frowned at the question. Why it would matter, he could not fathom, but it was her right to know, as their sibling also. “Ramsay Snow. Lord Bolton’s bastard. He was the one who lead the men to retake our home.” His sister smiled almost dangerously, not losing a single shred of it sharpness, with it being a little bit of a sad smile also. “The bastard son of a man who you know has sold you out, claimed the traitor we grew up with murdered our brothers, in the home he grew up beside us all in, and then set it to the torch, and you haven’t questioned the validity of those words?”

Robb sat up slowly, and cocked his head in silent question, not sure he was game to hope, not sure there was truly any hope to have at all? But curious enough that he NEEDED her to elaborate. “Theon was always a jealous idiot. He hated Jon at times because Jon was just better than him at everything, even though he was just a bastard. I may have been a child Robb, but I remember that. He hated that a BASTARD had more claim to being a Stark than he did... What if his Father made him out to be a traitor to his own blood, for WANTING to fit more with us? What if he made him attack The North to show his loyalty to his blood? And what if... What if, it wasn’t him who killed the boys and our people and burned our home? What if that was the Bolton bastard? The boys were your heirs. With them out of the way, it falls to Sansa and then me and then Jon. Girls, and a bastard bound by vows, to the Nights Watch. - Even Uncle Benjen is effectively removed from succession because of it. Sansa is a Lannister and I am presumed lost or dead - still, to most people. THAT leaves YOU and The North vulnerable. If you were to die in battle or whatever? The North becomes easier for the picking, with no STARK. A powerful NORTHERN Lord could swoop in.”

Robb cursed softly and paced around the table, until he was standing beside her, fruitlessly staring at the map, as though it held the answers, to the theory she just posed. And the theories that such a theory opened the possibility to. He didn’t WANT to hope. Because having any sort of hope, was dangerous and painful when it was lost. But he couldn’t help but wonder, if maybe his once brothers actions hadn’t been nearly as horrendous as he had assumed. They were still a betrayal. He would still kill him, if he ever laid eyes on him again, for the people of Winterfell, and his brothers fears and vulnerabilities and ultimate deaths, at the very least. Regardless of whether he had been the one to kill them or not. But perhaps he might breathe easier, if he could believe that they didn’t die at the hands of someone they loved as a brother, knowing he had failed them, by entrusted their safety to others, when he should have been there to see to it.

“You don’t think Theon killed them at all? You think it was a Bolton plot, and Theon was the convenient scapegoat? I am still responsible. And they are still dead. And my heir will be born soon, so it was a wasted effort, if what you propose turns out to be truth. And that somehow makes it so much worse.”

“I don’t think Bran and Rickon are dead. I don’t think Theon had the balls to hurt them. Could he have killed everyone else that treated him like a son of Winterfell?” She shrugged heavily and almost shrinking in on herself as she paced away and dragged her fingers over Castle Black sadly. Clearly missing Jon, every bit as much as he was. 

Gods! What he wouldn’t give to have his brother beside him. He had almost sent for him on more than one occasion. And he had wished for his gruff voice and brooding presence so very many times. But he had his own duties too, at least for so long as he was alive and had a living heir that was not his Lady sister, who could never hold The North with the husband and name she now laid claim to. He didn’t agree about their brothers, they were dead. But he would hold his tongue and let her speak anyway. She may be right that Theon hadn’t killed them, but they were still dead. 

“I think he could have killed everyone EXCEPT for the boys, if he had a point to prove about being loyal to the other Iron Men.” She swung back and met his eye, dropping her voice until it was barely more than a breath. “But the boys were his brothers Robb. And I don’t think he could have killed them. PLUS! Their bodies were mutilated beyond recognition... AND! Where were the wolves? I heard Brans killed the catspaw sent to kill him? Nymeria bit Joffrey for holding a sword at me and threatening to gut me! It’s why Lady was killed. Because they couldn’t find Nymeria because I chased her off. The wolves PROTECT us... They’d have needed to be killed to get to the boys. Where were their bodies? If they were even close to Grey Winds size? They wouldn’t have been easy to overcome, and if they were killed too? Whomever was responsible would have crowed about killing such beasts.” She planted heavily, and almost smiled, as excitement and hope flared in her eyes. “I think that maybe Theon pretended to kill them,to save face with his Fathers men, and because the Bolton bastard would have. And I think it was Bolton bastard who actually sacked Winterfell and burnt it.”

He blinked at her wide eyed. It hadn’t even occurred to him to question the location of the wolves. And now there was a burning, sickly pain building in his gut. And it was oddly familiar. He had believed Arya still in Kings Landing with Sansa. And then he had feared her dead, despite Sansa and then Jaime Lannister and The Blackfishes advice on how and where to look for her. He had believed they were both being held, much as Theon had been in their childhood, only to learn that Arya had been gone from there for years, and Sansa had been beaten like a dog and terrified at every turn. And yet, here she was, standing before him, offering him hope, yet again, that his beliefs in regards to his Sis kings, were wrong... Was it even possible? Or was it dangerous and naive to find hope in his sisters quiet thoughts.

“I’m going home.” He snorted rudely as she swung to face him, challenge bright in her defiant grey eyes. He statement coming from seemingly nowhere, and yet, from a place he could understand well, also. “I am going home Robb. Pick a contingent of men we can TRUST! And they can escort me to the Saltpans. We will sneak that far unnoticed, and then find passage to White Harbour, write a missive for Lord Manderly. I’ll hand deliver it. I’ve noticed his forces seem thin here, meaning he has more in reserve. We will take back Winterfell, and hunt down the Bolton men and Iron born. IF I am right about the Boys? I know where they would have gone if they could. And I KNOW how they’d have gotten out of Winterfell unnoticed, if they had to! I won’t engage in battle myself. I’ll focus on attempting to bring the North to rights until you can come home again. Mother can come too, she can take care to see to repairs with the castle and our people both. While I attempt to find answers. And I won’t tell her until I have something, if there is something to find. So she doesn’t get her hopes up. But please Robb? Please? You can sort out the peace deals with Lannister, and your agreements and alliances or whatever, with The Dornish and Sansa is on top of things in Kings Landing. You have to wait until you see Baelish and Joffrey dead, and have the Riverlands secured, I know that. But there must always be a Stark in Winterfell. Let me be that. Give me The Mormonts maybe? They are a small force, but they are fierce and they won’t stand back and let anyone walk all over me? And I’ll take Brienne too? The Hound is going to Dorne, but she will protect me as he has done?”

“You’re chasing ghosts Arya?”

“And you’re trying to impress ghosts, while forgetting vital things that they taught you. - But we want the same thing. Revenge. Peace. Home.”

He scowled at her and closed his eyes as he sighed in defeat. It was brilliant. Except that she was his YOUNG, and very unwed, MAID of a sister. HE trusted her to see to whatever she needed to see to, HE trusted her above most others, to retake The North and find their brothers - IF they were alive to be found. She had proven that she could survive and look after herself... But no one else would respect his allowing it. He blinked at her slowly and licked his lips, wondering, ruefully, if she might stab him with her little needle, for what he was about to do to her. Whether she liked it or not, and whether he was ready for her to leave his side or not? It was the only way he would be able to make what she asked, possible.

“Owen Norrey.” She cocked a brow in silent command, making him smirk slightly and cross his arms over his chest in arrogant amusement. “Owen Norrey. He is a Mountain man, from the Norrey clan. Obviously. He’s of an age with me. He is also battle hardened and has quite a bit of potential, when it comes to leading. He is also, from what I understand of it, rather appealing to women. He seems to do well with the camp followers, and he also doesn’t seem to be too enamoured of them in return, which is a positive, for YOU. He is an honourable man. Agree to marry him in the Godswood, before the moon turns, and you will ride North to retake it and our home and search for our brothers, at your husbands side. With half the Mountain clans to back you.” He smiled triumphantly was she growled and swung away from him to pace angrily. Remaining silent for long moments, despite the raging battle that was taking place in her mind. He had either convinced her to give up her plan, in which case, he would entrust it directly to Norrey? Or he had succeeded in convincing her that her being wed was a necessary and perhaps even a positive thing. She was smart enough to understand that he was telling her he couldn’t let his MAID of a sister do as she pleased, but he COULD let his MARRIED sister do it.

“Had Uncle Edmure married his traitors daughter yet?” He scoffed rudely and met her deadpan stare for a moment. “No. The old bastard is still refusing to hold the wedding at Riverrun. Don’t deflect. What say you? Being a woman of the Mountains would suit you. They wouldn’t expect you to wear a dress? And I’m fairly certain they’ll love that you wield steel yourself... Our Grandmother Lyarras Mother, whom you were named for, was a Flint of The Mountains, remember? The Mountains are in your blood and in your name too.” He almost laughed at the low growl and the extreme anger, warring with curiosity and even a touch of pride in her eyes. She didn’t want to marry, yet she was curious about the idea of being the next ‘Arya Flint’ too. - Except that she’d be Arya Norrey instead. And she had clearly understood his meaning. He wasn’t asking, to force her to wed against her will, he was asking purely because he wanted her to be able to follow through on her plans, and this was the only way. He had promised her not to push this, but it was the only way he could allow it.

“He’s decent and not too old?” Robb let his smile widen and nodded happily. What was more, is he had noted Owen watching her, - admiring her, amongst a few of the others, at times in recent weeks. And she may not realise her appeal, but he was not blind. His little sister was a beauty. A rough, wild beauty, that could only be found, and truly appreciated, in The North. She might even be able to find happiness, wed to the right man. He knew it in his bones that Norrey was a far better fit, than a Frey. “If people learn of it, it’s another slight against House Frey Robb. You need to be aware of that.” He nodded deftly. He knew it. He also didn’t care. HE didn’t make that deal, - his mother did, and the Freys were planning something sinister, regardless of his attempts to right the wrong he did them. So he didn’t care over much, if he gave them more reason to come at him. Perhaps it would tip the scales entirely, and have them show their traitorous selves at long last. 

“And he’ll agree? And he WON’T try to make me something I’m not, or beat me or force me into his bed or whatever, right?”

“Aye, he will agree, and I’ll make sure he understands that he is to respect you. But you will have to lay with him as his wife, if he asks it. - You can perhaps ask that he hold off expecting you to carry babes until you have a chance to grow some? I would encourage that with him privately, if you wish it? And I’ll threaten him with Grey Wind, if you ever complain to me of his treatment of you. How is that?”

His sister turned and stared across the room, chewing at her thumb nail, as she was want to do when she was thinking. A habit that his Mother was finally starting to attempt to break her of, now that she was a little more settled. She swung back and met his eye, forcing her shoulders back and her chin up to an almost Sansa like level of arrogance. Making him smile just a bit, at her fortitude. “FINE! You can ASK him if he wants that, and if he does, we will wed within the WEEK, I want to go North as soon as possible. There will be no crazy feast, or bedding and the ceremony can be just for those LOYAL, so it’s kept as quiet as possible. I’ll CONSUMMATE my vows as I damned well see fit! By which I mean, I will let him fuck me under the heart tree, as ancient Northern tradition dictate. But no one will witness it or interfere, and that’s all he gets until I’m damned well ready for more from him, and that’s between him and me alone! We will ride for the Saltpans the next day.” He shuddered at her crass words and shook his head. He deserved it, and he knew it. He had pushed her and she had allowed concessions on her asks. Much as he didn’t want to know or think about her ‘fucking’, he knew she only said it to lash out at him. And he did understand that coupling was a part of being wed. Even for his sisters.

“Seven hells.” He huffed a tired laugh and scrubbed at his face. Being a Mountain clans woman suited her far better than she could even hope to realise. “You can sort that out with him. I’ll have him sent for now. I’m not doing anything but awaiting word from either Harrenhal or Kings Landing, and awaiting the birth of my child, for now anyway. You can find Mother and bring her back here, to meet AFTER I’ve spoken with him. And we will make our plans.”

Arya nodded slowly, and blinked up at him, chewing at her lip and blushing a little too. “Which one is he?” He snorted a laugh and tugged her in to an unwanted hug, that the little wild child attempted to shove out of as quickly as she could. He kissed the top of her messy, short hair and laughed happily at her antics, and her adorable curiosity over the man he was picking for her. Despite her determination that she wasn’t marrying, the conversation had come around to her asking after her soon to be husband. As though she cared how he looked. “He’s the tall, quiet one with almost black hair, and beard, you’d have seen him with The Mormont girls, or the other Mountain men I imagine. - If he wasn’t such a strong warrior, the younger lads would tease him for being pretty, much like some of us used to tease Jon for the same thing. The older Mountain men do, but they can get away with it. He’s handsome enough Arya. And he’s good people. Quiet, but honest, and a bloody strong fighter. You’ll get along well. If not? I’ll cut him down myself, for you.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

They shared a quick laugh, as she punched him with her pointy little fist and grumbled at him, whilst blushing redder than he had ever seen. “I’m doing this for the little boys. And because a Stark needs to retake The North. History better remember me for it too! And not just for my HUSBANDS efforts in helping!” He smirked proudly and nodded. He understood that. And in a way, he was grateful that such a curious opportunity had arisen, to see her wed. He had genuine concerns about ever getting her to agree to be wed. But it was done - or as good as! She wouldn’t go back on her word, she wanted the chance to go North too much, to risk it.

“History is written by the victors little sister. Be victorious, and we shall make sure that your name gets remembered. Lady Arya Norrey, of The House Stark. Warrior Princess. The Mountain Wolf. Saviour of The North... I like it.”

“Me too, big brother... The Young Wolf, King in The North, and of The Trident... The Red Wolf, The Princess who took Casterly Rock, and brought peace to the realms... And The Mountain Wolf, who rode to protect The North from traitors intent on burning it - and hopefully, the one who found the lost pups, presumed dead for years too! - History will remember, we just have to write it ourselves.”

“I like it too. And I hope your theories prove true sister... Thank you. For guiding me these last weeks, and giving me some hope, and even a few good slaps around the ears too. You’re good at this. - THE GAME! And I value your thoughts, and appreciate your sacrifices.”

“Aye. I haven’t married him yet, and he may well lose his cock yet too. So don’t get too carried away... And the stupid game is on you and even Sansa - NEVER ME! But? We are pack Robb. We do what we have to, to protect us and ours, and The North. We remember... If Sansa can shred her reputation, and take up with OLD Lannister’s, to do her part? I suppose I can do mine with a Northman who better know to fear my vengeance! - Speaking of? Remember THAT, if I get caught, slitting Lord Bolton’s throat in the night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look? I’m being self indulgent again? And I’m completely cool with it! Let me know what you think!


	7. A Whole New Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS APPLY!!!
> 
> Explicit content.  
> Torture.  
> Mentions of brutality.  
> Implied/Mentions of sexual assault.
> 
> Please be mindful of warnings and skip ahead if necessary!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The morning after. Tyrions perspective.
> 
> Please note his THOUGHTS are in no way a reflection of my own. And feel free to hate him and me for them a little! (And Tywin - and it goes without saying, but Joffrey too!) I’m grossed out and imma need a fuck load of fluff in coming chapters to get past my disgust!

Many people dubbed him a monster. From the day he was born and his mother died, his stature, his deformities, had defined how he was seen. He was physically monstrous, so therefore, he was a monster. And there were times, where he felt such hurtful words and taunts were justifiable. He knew it well, he wasn’t always a good and kind man. He claimed himself the God of tits and wine on more than one occasion. He looked the other way when injustices were being met out upon innocents. Hells! He had hidden the truth of monstrous acts for most of his life! And though he had never and would never voice it? He found himself inappropriately attracted to people far more vulnerable than he also! Sometimes he had acted upon it too, in his weakest moments. He was never proud of it, and he had grown, in recent moons - perhaps even longer? He had matured and repented such behaviour. But that didn’t excuse it, and he damned well knew it.

And yet given what he was presently faced with, he had to acknowledge, that whilst he had moments in his life that he could now feel only utter loathing for? He was not a monster. Not by any true comparison. Hells! Given what he was staring at, so aghast and heart heavy? Even his brother and father’s many atrocities looked like nothing more than a drop in the ocean of cruelty. They weren’t of course! Some things that could be laid at their feet, were positively unjustifiable. No matter that the acts themselves served a purpose, that was rather more significant, than needless cruelty for the sake of personal enjoyment.

He felt sick to his stomach, as much for what he was looking at, as for the mad excitement shining in his despicable nephews eyes, thanks to their reactions. He was a monster, because there had been times where he had enjoyed fantasising about raping and killing his sister, even telling himself that such thoughts were justified by how she treated him his whole life. And he was a monster for laying with girls, very much too young to be working on their backs - paying extra at times, to have the honour of their maidenheads. Though he had never been rough with them, he had done so, and justified it by claiming that he at least eased them into the life of a whore with gentle coupling and ensuring they felt pleasure too. And still he KNEW it was wrong of him... His brother was a monster, for loving someone he should not have to complete stupidity, and for being a blind killing machine at times, for his sister and their Father. And his Father was even worse, slaughtering hundreds of innocents to put down the rebellion of their Lords and Ladies and parents and elder siblings, regardless of their individual innocence. He had forced his own Fathers mistress into a walk of atonement through the streets of Lannisport before Lord Tytos’ body was even cold... He allowed their armies to take as they pleased during times of war... He had all but celebrated the brutal actions of his men in regards to Princess Elia and her children... And what he ordered done to Tysha? There weren’t even truly words for that.

Yet it was only the last two points, that he felt came even remotely close to that very moment. And even then, there had been no pride in his Fathers countenance. If anything, his look had shown hate and disdain for him, for pushing him to do something so evil, in regards to Tysha. And from what he could assume, he felt no pleasure or satisfaction over delivering Elia to Robert as he had. Only cold resolve. Possibly even a little bit of disgust over catering to another monsters desires as he had. Not that he truly knew of course. But he knew his Father well enough to know that he had been capitalising on the situation, rather than enjoying it.

This was different entirely. His nephew had strutted into the small council, proud as a peacock, and tossed the bed linens, that were clearly from his Queens chamber, and evidence of his having consummated his vows with the girl, on the table before his Father. And hers.

Linens, that once the guards stretched them out, as Joffrey had excitedly instructed them to do? Showed evidence of even more depravity, than he had anticipated. And he had imagined some of the worst situations that he conceivably could, in an attempt to prepare himself when news inevitably trickled down to him, of what occurred in the new Queens bedchamber. Nothing could have prepared him for what he was seeing. Except perhaps, had he imagine seeing the sheets from The Mountains wedding night.

“Grand Maester? You are to attend the Queen immediately. Jaime? I want a dozen of the most lethal Lannister guardsmen lining the hall outside The Queens chamber, seek out Ser Loras and advise that he and his pick of a further three Tyrell guardsman are to stand for her INSIDE of her chamber door. HIS GRACE will require separate guards around his own chamber until Her Grace has had opportunity to recovery.” Tyrion swallowed hard, partly in fear, partly in a bid to flush down the sick quickly rising in his throat, as his Father stood, glaring at his nephew with all of the rage that was building under his normally well controlled and concealed facade. “His Grace is to be escorted to his own chamber and held there, once he is done here, until his Queens every comfort has been met, at the very least. Tyrion? You will lend your man to see to it.” He didn’t hesitate, nodding his head dumbly and waving permission to Jaime to go ahead and advise Bronn of his new task, on his way out. He knew there were men enough there to see to his own safety, just as he and Jaime both knew there were men enough to tighten up around The Tower to protect their wives, both from Joffrey and from hearing of this, for the time being. A subtle nod from the raging and almost feral looking Dornishman ensured it. And it did not need to be said, his nephews Kingsguards followed their Lord Commander without complaint, with nothing more than a look from the KINGSLAYER. At least one of them would likely be dead at his hand, before the day was out.

Tyrion himself, had been struggling quite a bit with wine sickness as it was, for the amount he had put away during the wedding feast, and during the extensive and exhausting bed games that he and Shae had played late into the night too! But staring at that sheet - the blood and the seed, that was clearly too extensive to belong to only one man, and a maidenhead, and the odd brown patches that he really hoped were incorrectly assumed, by the girls Father at the very least, to be more dried BLOOD, rather than what he knew it to be in truth? Plus the tears in patches clearly the result of what looked to be teeth, from biting down upon it, and nails tearing at it enough to cause fingers to bleed also? He was genuinely concerned that he was going to bring the contents of his stomach up. Hopefully if he did, he could at least paint his vicious, evil, nephews longs boots. He had earned that much - at the very least.

“You wanted evidence that I’d done my duty Grandfather? I would have thought it sufficient? I will not be sent to my chamber, and I will have access to My Queen. She IS my wife. Clearly.” The smirk on his face, the clear demented pride made him shudder. He had had monstrous moments. As had his brother. And his Father was considered by the majority of the realm, as being the most monstrous of them all, wielding men like the Cleganes as though they were weapons, and answering to no one, not even Kings, for either his actions, or his complete control because of the fear created from said actions. But he could comprehensively state, that the only person in the world, he had ever seen, with such an evil glint in their eye, was Aerys Targaryen, second of his name, the ONE and ONLY time, he had been permitted to attend court, whilst the man lived. The mad fool made even brutal, blustering, Robert Baratheon seem like a loving and kind man!

He sneered in disgust and unsuccessfully grabbed at the mad Dornishmans arm in a bid to calm him, but Oberyn was having none of it. He swung out of his seat and shoved his way out of the council chamber, hissing and glaring over his shoulder, in silent order to see it dealt with before he was tempted to do so himself. Steering a very pale and clearly distraught and sickened Mace Tyrell with him as he did so. All others followed suit, until it was only he and his Father left, facing his nephew. Varys having slipped out as quickly and quietly as he could, after Jaime stormed out to do as he had been bid, behind the Grand Maester.

The moment the room was clear, his Fathers hand shot out, every bit as fast as a man a third his age, and drove the boy face first, atop the disgusting cloth that made up the horrendous evidence of his depravity, that he almost coveted as the finest piece of art, for how his eyes lingered on it. Tyrion did no more than stand and step away, to give his Father room, as he pinned the evil creature down by his throat. He needed wine. He couldn’t stomach it? But he needed it. And he needed a moment to breathe, before he did something very Jaime like, and gave into the impulse to drive a dagger into the boy. Perhaps up his ass, or into the eye of his cock, so he could know what it was he had forced his wife to endure? Perhaps he’d think to rest it in the fire first, allow it to glow red. He had heard some women claim that it felt like they were being ripped in two with a hot fire poker. It would be monstrous, yet justified, at least in the minds of his Father and Brother. In his mind it would be justice and vengeance.

He walked slowly towards the wine carafe on the small table off the the side of the vast chamber, allowing himself a moment to calm, and his Father space to do as he would. For once, appreciating that his stunted legs would not carry him faster. Truthfully, his Father could kill the boy, right then and there, and he did not think a single member of the council, whom had all been seated at that table only moments beforehand, would object. None but for perhaps Petyr Baelish, whom had been curiously absent from the meet. A point he would needs investigate.

He knew that wasn’t his Fathers plan though. He also knew he had one. Likely he had anticipated an horrendous experience for the little Rose Queen. He had thwarted the plot to kill Joffrey before he could bed her. That had been made abundantly clear, with the terrified looks the girl had shared with her Grandmother, the day before. When they realised that Sansa was not wearing their ‘gift’. His Father had also spoken to them both just before he called for the bedding. He likely suspected that it would be a little rougher than even most girls experienced. But Tyrion seriously doubted that he had expected to see a sheet that seemed to resemble more a scene of rape and murder, than consummation of wedding vows. His reaction showed that he hadn’t anticipated THAT degree of vicious cruelty and stupidity.

He did not know what words his Father spoke, they were growled so low, so coldly into the boys ear, as he held him pinned, even going so far as to use his own hips against his ass, to keep him completely immobile and at his mercy. But he didn’t need to hear it, it was as clear as day that his Father was showing him how it felt to be at the mercy of a monster greater than he. And it was disturbing. Disturbing enough that he had to wonder, if he hadn’t been there, if his Father might have gone so far as to have the boy sodomised, to truly drive that point home. Not that he believed his Father would rape him himself of course! But he knew he was capable of ordering such things performed on people. He had witnessed it himself. 

He slurped at his wine, gulping heavily as he watched the scene unfold before him. His Father having taken his dagger as he continued his lecture, and using it to slice around the back of his screaming nephews ears, before slicing his lobes clean off. The violently sharpened blade taking to the webbing between the fingers of both hands, and the tip pressing into each nail enough to pierce it, following that. - Perhaps he was every bit the monster that he claimed he was only in part? Because such a thought gave him a sick sense of satisfaction in thinking such a thing would be justice. - The question of potential sodomy, he had allowed himself to think upon, not the slicing. The small tortures his Father exposed him to, he felt were only a small price for the boy to pay, for all the pains he had caused others.

Not that he particularly cared for Margaery Tyrell, she was a vapid girl with aspirations so high that she had knowingly risked exactly what she got, for the crown on her head. But no bride should face that sort of torture, for simply having married, and accepting her duty. Though he was conflicted too, given what she and her family had had planned for his sweet friend, once wife and now little sister. 

He DID care for Sansa though. And he cared for Myrcella and Tommen too. And whilst his niece and nephew had not known pains anywhere near the magnitude of either Sansas, or Margaery Tyrells - or any number of unfortunate souls whom he had abused so horrendously, that remained nameless or faceless, due to their being of lower birth? They had known enough cruelty from their elder brother, without the others, to justify the blood pooling and soaking into the sickening sheet, at his Fathers rage filled hands.

——————

“Ensure Varys speaks to what occurred here Tyrion.” He sputtered slightly and startled. He hadn’t been expecting his Father to speak at all. And he certainly did not expect to be asked to have rumours circulate over what he had witnessed from his Father. Truthfully, he had been lost to his own blinding rage and even shocked silent, by the image of his KINGLY nephew passed out cold upon the table, where his Father left him. He had been utterly fascinated by the fact that the boy couldn’t handle the pain or the fear, when he had doled up so much worse himself. - He had even shit himself, by the smell of things. By the splashes and dribbles shining like spilled Arbor Gold on his Fathers polished boots, he clearly pissed himself at the very least.

He turned and poured yet another goblet for himself, as his Father proficiently and meticulously cleaned the blood from his hands and his blade with a handkerchief. “May I ask why you want such a thing to become fodder for gossip?” He lifted the goblet quickly and took a hearty gulp, before turning and strutting back to his seat at the table that was now home to a weak boys passed out body, that was still sluggishly bleeding, and the map of debauchery he had claimed as some sort of sick trophy.

“Don’t be daft Tyrion. The sooner it is known that I dealt punishment for the Queens torture? The sooner I can DEAL with things, and the less apparent it is, that such a call was a Lannister call.” He blinked in surprise, but nodded in understanding, all the same. He should have realised without needing to be told. But once more, his Father proved himself the most ruthless of players. He would be free of suspicion for killing him, when the time came, because if he was inclined to do so? He wouldn’t have bother to meet out such punishments first. It was brutal. And it was brilliant. “THAT mess.” His Father pointed with undisguised distaste, at the linen. “Changes my plans. Though I can and will work with it. I will need you to ensure that Our Queen, is served moon tea. Two doses, to be sure. It shouldn’t be difficult to see it done without even her realising it, as I imagine that she will require milk of the poppy at the very least, for quite a number of days. Speak to Jaime’s maester about it. Pycelle will be suspected of attempting it. He will be watched too closely when he treats her.”

“You mean to put him down with the substance they tried to plant on Sansa? You meant to put them both down and pin it on the Tyrells? Her death being accidental in everyone’s eyes, but for theirs and ours? HER death a warning and a debt paid?” His Father did not need to answer, the blank look he was afforded for his words, was all he needed. He hadn’t needed them in truth. He knew the man well, after all. He was changing tactics because the girl had already paid her debt, for her part in things. And with being fed moon tea? She would be both ruined and childless, thus leaving her with no hope of control over the Throne, and no true threat to the power he had bestowed upon Sansa. 

He sighed wearily and nodded before slowing his swallowing of wine to a slow sip. He pursed his lips and smirked as he leaned forward and tipped the remainder of his goblet on his idiot nephews head, making him hiss and thrash about, but not enough to actually wake fully, from his unconscious state. It was a small taste of personal revenge, but it had felt good, regardless for how petty it was. “We will allow it to fester for a few days. He is to be kept away from his wife and his mother entirely in that time. When I act, the suspicions with fall where they should. I will decide if THEY meet the suspicions, or if I find a convenient scapegoat, at a later date.” His Fathers tone was almost nonchalant. And again he nodded. Not game to gain say the man after the morning he had weathered in that chamber, and not truly interested in questioning his actions regardless. At the end of the day, he was on the right side of the Lannister family squabbles, and he meant to keep himself there. He was smart enough to not earn his Fathers ire, if he could help it, at the best of times. Now was not the time to push the man for any reason.

His Father tapped the table pensively before pulling the scrolls that had been piled neatly before him, for the council meeting, back to himself. Clearly showing his interest in current events, done. As though it was entirely normal for him to simply keep working, around the brutality before them. Though he supposed it likely was, for his Father. He smiled sardonically to himself and sighed almost wearily. He would need to make his way back to his wife and sister by laws side, advise them if recent developments. AFTER seeing to the tasks, both voiced and unvoiced, that his Father had laid out for him. He would need to speak to their hidden allies also. And meet with his brother to discuss their potential counter moves, against any and all possible issues his Fathers actions would cause. But for the moment, he understood, he had yet to be dismissed, verbally or otherwise. Which meant his Father was not yet done with him.

“Petyr Baelish booked passage on a ship headed for Gulltown... For TWO passengers. I don’t believe I need to advise you on the who’s and what’s, such information pertains to.” His eyes swung back to the old bastard and widened. His heart thumping with even more concern, and his blood thrumming with even more rage, as he studied him. How he knew that, and how Tyrion hadn’t heard THAT information himself also, was beyond him! Varys had not mentioned a thing about it. Which meant he had either entrusted that information to his Father instead, or he didn’t yet know himself, but his Father had someone else informing him, who did. “Deal with it. You need not concern yourself about him finding success in either filling that second bed he paid for, nor finding a window to slip away himself. He may not have been here this morning, but he hasn’t escaped my wrath YET. I WANT HIM, before he has a chance to. Find me what I need by the morrow, or I either have him cut down and dumped in the Blackwater, or charged with regicide instead, in coming days or weeks, and Stark will just have to get over him not being named for his true crimes.”

He snorted rudely and eyed the now groaning and stirring body before him, with an almost sick amount of glee, over his state. He really was his Fathers son sometimes. He could no longer deny it. Of course? He’d never admit it either? But it was hard to claim himself anything else, with the pleasure he was taking at the sight of his own nephews suffering.

“I’ll see to it. I’ll even go one further and attempt to keep Jaime in check when he learns of it. - I’ll ruthlessly employ assistance from his lovely wife. But I’ll need some assurances too.”

“What?”

“Cersei. After your DANCE? And after... This and your coming moves? She will be beyond reason. And she is already dangerous enough. It’s only a matter of time before she works her way out of her current situation, and finds herself allies.”

“Leave your sister to me.”

He chewed at his lip pensively and studied his Fathers serious look. He wasn’t sure the man would make the same decisions for his sister, as he had for her evil spawn, laid out before them. But HE would make that decision if he was forced to it, he wouldn’t necessarily like it?Despite his disgusting fantasies over such? He couldn’t stomach the idea of killing his sister in truth. But he would if he HAD TO. His Father needed to understand that. He nodded slowly in agreement, trusting his Father to do what was necessary to ensure Cersei behaved, and pushed his seat back, intent on making his exit, now that his dismissal appeared eminent.

“One last thing.” He cocked a brow and reminded in his seat. “Your brother. Advise him that WAITING another moon or two, to put a babe in his wife, would be wise.” Tyrion snorted a surprised laugh and shook his head in utter confusion. Why in all the Gods names his Father would suggest THAT! When he had been so intent on seeing a Lannister from Sansas womb as soon as humanly possible, for MOONS! And why such a seemingly unnecessary thing would be brought up after the severity of what they had been discussing, he could not comprehend. “Too soon after being wed to a second LANNISTER, and there will be questions of legitimacy. Regardless of our claims that you cannot Father children? There are those who will have doubts. Your sister would take great delight in planting those exact seeds of doubt. It served for the child’s legitimacy to be questioned when she was YOUR wife. Now that she is your brothers, and we have claimed you cannot, in fact, beget children yourself? There needs to be no question. In light of all other potential whispers and scandals attached to our name, we need to allow balance also, by allowing NO DOUBTS there. It will be the positive gossip to counteract the negative, AFTER things settle somewhat.” He snickered slightly and shook his head as he slipped out of his seat, taking delight in eyeing the carafe he hadn’t noticed hiding under the sheet on the table. There was little point explaining to his Father that there was never any question. He did NOT need to know that. Not if Tyrion didn’t want his neck wrung. And he could see his point also. - But there was quite a bit of pleasure to be found, by dumping the contents of said carafe on his nephews head, making him shriek and sputter away, as it held far more than a mere mouthful or two. And in doing so, dismissing said topic of babes.

His Father cocked a brow, almost amused, yet clearly annoyed at him finding his entertainment in such a childish manner. He smiled slightly and gestured to the wide eyed and blustering idiot, still sputtering wine and howling over the burning it caused to his opened wounds. “I’ll share your advice, but I make no promises. You know I am not the LION that controls that one - not in regards to such things. And I’ll wish you luck with THAT. I’ll see to my tasks now, and advise the Ladies Lannister, that we will move Family LUNCHEON, to Family DINNER instead hmm?” He snickered and strutted out with a nonchalant wave over his shoulder as his Father scoff and nodded in dismissal. 

He wasn’t sure it was wise to leave his Father alone with the bastard boy, but he certainly wasn’t concerned about the idiot getting the better of Tywin Lannister of all people. And he knew his Father had better control than to ruin his quickly mapped out plans, to run him through without a witness to excuse his actions if needs be. He didn’t need him for whatever he planned to do with or to the boy next. He had Bronn standing by the remove him to his chamber once he was done anyway. And he had places he needed to be, and plans he needed to see to himself. Plus potentially an angered wife, a disturbed and possibly upset sister, and a raging brother to calm also. The Great Lion could handle toying with his pray, without his help, in light of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry!!


	8. The Weight of Someone Elses Sins.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS! I’m a little overwhelmed by the positive reception from the previous chapter! I admit that I was a little concerned about posting it - even though I found it to be a vital chapter plot wise! So thank you all for the constant support!
> 
> There is a LOT of dark points yet to come, as the plots move forward. And a lot of plotting and scheming to go over too! So I’m lightening the mood - JUST A BIT! With some fluff mixing in this chapter! ENJOY!

She wasn’t sleeping. They had been silently laying abed for hours. Enough so that the fire had guttered out to nothing more than a dull glow of fading coals, and the moon had long ago dipped and waned past their shuttered windows. And yet sleep still evaded them both. He hadn’t really expected she would be able to. But he worried over it all the same. She had been so shaken when Tyrion had told them of his Fathers actions following Joffreys little display before The Small Council, that she had shown her upset, in a way that was not at all commonplace for her. So much so, that he had begged them off attending dinner with the family, as had been organised after the matters at hand had pushed their initial plans for luncheon back.

His Father hadn’t objected at all, which he was grateful for, being that it was at his request to speak with them all, that a family meal had been planned. It wouldn’t have stopped him from refusing to force her into it, all the same. But he knew well enough that testing his Fathers limits presently, was not a terribly smart thing to do.

It wasn’t JUST his Fathers actions that were playing on his little wife’s mind though. Would that it were. She’d be raging mad and disgusted at such callous behaviour. What was truly weighing on her, was what had caused his Father to react like that. 

It was the details that she was not privy to, about what Margaery Tyrell had weathered. It was the reasons that his brother would NOT give, beyond stating he had concerns over Baelishs interests given the events of the day. - For his advice that they be extra vigilant about her protection in particular, including his asking that she not leave either his side, or their Fathers, or Uncle Kevans, when outside of their chambers, in the lead up to, or during the tournament that was due to take place, in only a few days. The same tournament that the guest of honour likely would be unable to attend now, because she’d be recovering from her torturous ordeal. It was his brother following that up by him asking that she not even be alone in their chambers for the time being. It was also the reality that they knew that Stark and Tully men, were supposed to be making their move, alongside the few stray Dornishmen who had managed to sneak their way North, against The Mountain. And the fact that they had yet to hear anything from Riverrun in far longer than she would like too. It was the fact that she could accept his Fathers actions blindly. Actions that were so far from honourable, that the honest and GOOD Stark nature inside of her, hated herself just a little bit, for not being utterly disgusted by it. She hated that she didn’t hate his Father, for the very obvious reminder, that he was in fact, a very ruthless and terrible person. One whom she had seen as her enemy, not so very long ago. - She hated that a small part of her enjoyed the idea of Joffreys suffering. Regardless of how she hated and feared him.

But mostly it was the fact that despite not even knowing the details of the state of that blasted bridal sheet, let alone the depth of true evil, and violence that had to have been visited upon Margaery Tyrell, to have created such a thing. - Her imagination was supplying all manner of horrors, because of the countermoves and actions taken. 

It could have been her. That was what frightened her the most. And what frightened or haunted him the most too. It would have been her, had it not been for the war that slaughtered so very many people. A lot of whom she had loved. The war that had taken her Fathers head and driven her family apart. She felt guilt, because it wasn’t her. And she felt guilt because she hadn’t prevented it by letting herself be used as a scapegoat, so that Olenna Tyrell could kill the vile little beast before he could do what he did to the girl who was once her friend. The vile little beast who had killed her Father, and whom she wanted to see dead, just not in a way that would place blame on her or anyone she loved. She likely felt guilt, that while they danced and laughed and then made love so passionately, Joffery was brutally forcing the girl who had replaced her in his bed, until she bled heavily and not that his wife would ever, ever know it, but from more than just the one place a maiden would commonly bleed from, on her wedding night.

Jaime himself, had had no choice but to go away inside of his head for a time. Lest he kill the boy. His own damned blood! The bastard that he had stupidly, wrongly, allowed to be born from HIS seed! - He had been seeing his little wife broken down, bleeding, and begging the Gods to just take her life and be done with, a terrifying combination of how she had spoken so fondly of death the day he had come upon him hurting her in the hall, and of the bloodied remains of Princess Elia, and the bruised and battered and infinitely sad eyed Queen Rhaella. The horrific images of ‘what if it was her’ had flashed in his minds eye the moment he spotted that damned sheet. And they had played through his head over and over as he demanded answers from the Knights of the Kingsguard that he KNEW had been instructed to bare witness.

Both had been seized and marched out to the main courtyard, where he had spilled blood for the first time, since retaking his sword. Thankful, beyond belief, that it hadn’t been awkward with his brace, to bend his arms well enough to swing the sword, without getting himself twisted up, or being unable to see them dead himself because of any physical restrictions. It felt good to know that he had proved himself worthy of his claim to being lethal and ruthless with a sword in his hand.

Had he allowed it, a part of him might have taken delight in having killed his sisters hairy beast of a lover too - as he had sworn to himself that he would, all those many weeks - moons ago, when he had first returned to Kings Landing, to find him balls deep inside of the woman he thought he loved with everything he had. Instead all he had felt was rage, at hearing that whilst men under HIS COMMAND had followed his commands to ‘not touch’ the highborn Lady turned Queen, they had seemingly assumed that it would be acceptable that they not only bare witness to such brutality, but that they take part enough, at THEIR KINGS COMMAND, to rub themselves to completion whilst watching the brutality of the girl. And leave their spendings on that blasted sheet too. Even taking their heads, and ordering them mounted on the walls, did not take that rage away. No matter his pride at being able to swing the sword himself.

Because in truth, they weren’t the heads he truly WANTED to take. Which was confronting. It said a lot about who Joffery had grown to become, that he wanted to kill him with so much desperation, so often. He was his SON! He own flesh and blood, and he was raised and loved blindly by both his twin and the woman he had dedicated his life to love and protect. Yet now that his eyes were open to the reality, the TRUTH of them? He hated everything about them. Including the fact that he was responsible for the boy even having been conceived. He could fool himself into believing he held little responsibility, because he didn’t raise him, or even barely know him in truth? But he carried quite a bit of responsibility, because ultimately, it would have been better had he never fucked him into existence at all.

He stroked his live hand up and down his wolfs back slowly, letting her know that he could feel her wakefulness. Letting her know that he was right there with her, being haunted by the things they hadn’t really discussed beyond acknowledging that they had happened. Letting her know without words, that he understood where her mind was at, because he was reeling and hurting too. It was the first night that they had ever climbed abed and simply held each other. They hadn’t spoken either. Nor had they shared more than a few soft kisses pressed to her head in his case, and his chest in hers. For nothing more than comfort. The pain and the guilt and the anger and the fear was simply too much, for either of them.

He turned and pressed his face into her hair again, and breathed her in, as her hand pushed up to cup his neck - to hold him a little tighter. And his heart broke as her control did. She sobbed into his chest silently. Jaime wiggled enough to shuffle her around, so that they were on their sides, where he could wrap her up in his arms and let her curl into him completely, to hide in his safety, as she shook and shuddered and shattered, like a fragile trinket, falling to the floor and splintering into a thousand glittering shards. He didn’t attempt to shush her at all, not that it was necessary, being that her heart wrenching sobs were silent but for the gasps as she took much needed air into her lungs. But he had come a long way, with being comfortable comforting her, since that very first time they hugged. He wanted to be the one to hold her up and let her fall apart too, when she needed. And perhaps that came from the fear that lanced through him when she spoke so calmly and fondly of finding peace in death? Or perhaps it was simply something that came with loving her. He hurt, because she was hurting, and holding her made him feel like he was helping her through that.

“I want to go home Jaime.” He hummed, clearing his throat as the sound caught on the lump lodged there from disuse and from the emotions overwhelming him, and trying again. He wasn’t sure he heard her correctly, and he wasn’t sure he actually wanted to hear her correctly either. Her voice had been so soft and hitched from her tears, but her words had sounded an awful lot like something that had the potential to rip his heart clean from his chest. “I said I want to go home. To The Rock. I want to go to OUR home - what should be our home now. I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t want to play this game anymore. I just want for us to be free to be as we are in here, everywhere, at all times. I want peace. I want it in the Kingdoms as a whole too! Obviously. But I’m tired of this. All this pain and anguish and guilt. All this cruelty and death. I want us to go home and have a dozen babes and pretend that the world around us is as peaceful and happy and prosperous as we are together. Take me home, please Jaime?” He sighed heavily in relief, as his heart swelled so fully inside of his chest, that it felt almost as if it might actually kill him. 

Of course that was what she meant. He should have known. His stubborn, beautiful, prideful little wolf would not mean that she wanted to leave him now, and ruin all of the efforts they had made in building peace between their families. It was easy to forget, when he was so lost in his own emotions, that she loved him too. And that she had chosen him to be the one to share freedom at her side, after they righted the wrongs of their families and done to their families also. It wasn’t her fault at all, that he might occasionally fear being left behind, she had never given him cause to think she might, if anything, she was constantly showing him she meant to keep him - even fight for him. She had proven that when she chose him to be the one to give her the child she needed, and she had chosen him again, when she gave him her body and followed through on it. And then again when she chose to marry him to protect him from the schemes of others. Even as far back as when she refused to run, she was choosing him then, right along with herself, and their families and the thousands of people who’s lives would be spared if they could bring about peace too. She was choosing him now, whilst lost and afraid and feeling buried under the weight of the sins of others.

“I’ll talk to my Father tomorrow, and have plans set in motion for our return to Casterly Rock - or more rightly? Our maiden venture I suppose? I’ll be returning as the Heir, but you have never seen my childhood home.” He pulled back and smiled down at her, with likely far too much happiness, than the occasion called for, given the day they’d had. But he couldn’t help it. The idea of seeing her riding into The Lions Mouth at his side, as his wife and the future Lady who would rule over the whole of it, was just far too wonderful a thought, to deny. And the sight of her tear brightened eyes blinked up at him so lovingly, from the endearingly innocent face buried in his chest, was just the most perfect sight after the day they’d had too. “I’ll take you home, My Love. Where we can have as many children as you want, hopefully we’ve even made a start on that very first one! We can love openly at all times there, and work our way towards the peace you want to build, without having to bare witness to the evils found at court. I promised to take you home didn’t I? We will see to it. First thing in the morning. Unfortunately we will have to work around the game until we do ride out though. Can you be my strong wolf until then? It’s alright if you can’t. I’ll be right here to hold you together if you need me.”

He smiled sheepishly at the fond, sweet smile he could only see thanks to the adoration in her beautiful eyes, because said smile was still ver much hidden in his chest. She made him such a blathering idiot sometimes. He was just thankful that he could trust her with that part of himself that no one else had ever managed to bring out in him. “I’ll always need you Jaime. Always. But I can be the wolf for a little longer, if it means we can leave this place sooner rather than later.” He bit his lip and sighed, letting his hand slide up over her back again affectionately, before leaning in and pressing a longing kiss to her forehead. “I hated being told we should hold off on our babe... It’s strange. What brought us together initially, is now being almost denied us for the sake of this stupid game. It’s infuriating... And it makes me sad. I don’t want to wait now that I’ve accepted and come to be excited over having your children grow inside of me.” He snorted rudely at her softly whispered petulance, and shook his head. “I’m not about to force moon tea down my wife’s throat Sansa. And I’m certainly not about to either stop begging entry to her perfect body, nor deny myself and her also, the pleasure of spending my seed as deep inside of her as I can. My Father can kiss my ass, as can anyone else who might think to imply that my babes belong to anyone but me.”

Her humming giggles vibrated in his chest where she still had yet to pull away from him for more than a moment to breathe or speak. Her puffy, tear stained and tired eyes shining up at him with both amusement and pride too, enough to make him preen just a little bit. “My proud Lion Knight. Not concerning himself with the opinions of the sheep.” He snorted a laugh and tugged her face up enough to duck down and steal a soft kiss from her cheeky mouth. “I’ll prove to you how unconcerned I am if you would like she wolf? Say the word, and I’ll work through the rest of these dark hours, at putting my cubs in your belly, just in case I’ve not yet been successful in that endeavour. Hmm? What say you? I can also make an argument for distracting us both, from recent pains, by having us lose ourselves entirely to the pleasure and peace we find when we are together? We can forget about everything else, because when the moons shines My Wolf? I am yours and you are mine and nothing else matters here in our bed, but you and me and OURS.” He was begging, he knew it. But he was also attempting to be seductive in doing so, breathing his words over her lips, and brushing against them with his own, while his hand traced her lovely curves slowly, - pointedly.

He smiled widely at the fact that it was working too, as she pressed herself closer to his body, and followed his lead, exploring him slowly, her soft hands tickling over his side and back, and dipping ever so slightly below the waist of his sleep breeches. Smiling back against his lips, as her breathing hitched once more, for an entirely different reason. “Mmm. When the moon shines My Lion. Perhaps you can make me ROAR as you fill me up with the seed that will make OUR cubs hmm? Make me forget My Love? Bring me peace in this darkness?” He smirked and nipped at her lip as her leg slipped up and over his hip in pointed invitation, as his hand slipped down over the curve of her perfect ass. “Make you ROAR huh? Does that mean you wish to be my lioness tonight?” The deadpan look she shot him was absolutely worth the risk he had taken, in calling her such a thing! He chuckled darkly and tickled his hand up and under her shift to palm at her lovely thigh and her hip, and then he groaned, having noted the lack of small clothes to impede his access to her warmth.

“If you don’t want me either tearing this shift, or finding a dagger to slice through it to get to you? I’d suggest you take it off LIONESS.” He snickered at her indignant squeak, and at her hitting his shoulder, and nipped at the tip of her scrunch nose, completely ignoring the narrow eyed glare she levelled at him. He couldn’t help it, his stirring her up was distracting her even more than his sweet affection had been. And he was definitely willing to take full advantage of it too. He loved it when his sweet little wife let her inner wolf out to play with him! She was passionate and a little wild, and utterly, devastatingly beautiful when she just let go and loved with him. 

But to a point, it might be helpful for her to experience a little bit of aggression between them in their passions too? He wanted her to understand that he wouldn’t ever hurt her, not outside of their little moonlit existence and certainly not within it either. Given the reality of the fears and hurts that had her crying into his chest not so very long ago? It was important to him that she be shown and that he make it abundantly clear, that there was not a single thing she could do, that would ever push him to act in a manner that was anything less than completely giving and loving, where she was concerned. That he would never hurt her. Even if they got rough with each other physically.

He smiled and waggled his eyebrows at her before tugging at the offending piece currently hiding the prize that was her magnificent body, in silent instruction. Before burying his face in her neck, licking and nipping at her jaw almost roughly, and actually biting at her neck with a pointed growl. “Come on Love. You want me to stop calling you my LIONESS? Make me.” He groaned as she pushed her hands below his sleep breeches completely and dug her nails into his ass, making his cock twitch harshly against her soft belly. The snarling growl she let out making his balls tighten almost painfully. “Lannister I may be, in NAME husband mine! But I’ll ALWAYS be a wolf!” He huffed a laugh and licked and sucked at her ear, panting over it, almost whining in truth - as she dragged those claws up his back slowly, not letting up on the pressure of their bite, at all. 

“Prove it.”

He couldn’t help the surprised laugh that slipped out around the needy groan, as she somehow managed to shift her weight enough to throw him onto his back, with her straddling his hips, her hands pinning his arms beside his head. Fingers laced together with his good hand, and his stump held tight with the biting grip of her other. Much as it shocked him, it also amused him that she had taken his taunting challenge as quickly as he had! PROVING it, just as he had asked. He could move, overpower her, easily of he wanted to. He knew it, and so did she. But he couldn’t think of a single place he would rather be, than completely at her mercy. So he wasn’t going anywhere. “Get that shift off LIONESS. And my breeches too. And TAKE ME if you want me. Maybe for just tonight I’ll let you make me a wolf instead?” She slammed her lips down against his own and feasted. Licking and sucking and biting him, driving her hot, sweet tongue past his lips and teeth to tangle with his own, while she rubbed herself over him, from chest to hips and everywhere they pressed together in between, making him groan and buck up at the warm dampness slicking the linen of his sleep pants to the underside of his aching cock.

“You are MY LION. My Knight. My Lord husband. My LOVE. My LOVER. And one day the Father of my children too. But you are not a wolf, and I don’t want you to be. Because I LOVE YOU, exactly as you are - the darkness that lingers inside of you, and all, my LION.” Jaime grunted and hissed as she bit his lip HARD, and pulled back, releasing him so that she could whip her shift off over her head, and shuffle down his thighs to tug his breeches away, just as he had wanted her to. Fuck! He couldn’t think! He couldn’t speak! With her impassioned words? She had knock him over, every bit as much as she had the day she growled at him over pitying himself. He hadn’t actually meant his words to be a challenge in that way! But Gods! Did he love her ability to cut through his innermost fears.

She pushed herself down over him, without a lick of hesitation. Sliding down his whole length and taking him all inside of her perfect slick, swollen opening. And he snapped. She was right. She was a damned wolf and he a lion, they were both predators, and predators fought for dominance. He held tight and rolled her until she was under him, growling up at him, as he pinned her instead. Lacing the fingers of his left into her much softer, more delicate hand, and holding tight, while he hitched her thigh further up his side with his stump. Holding himself inside of her deeply until she ceded control with a sly smile, and then he took her hard and deep, holding her gorgeous molten sapphire eyes with his own as he drove in and out of her, as she growled and whined and fluttered around him. Fighting back with every harsh roll of her hips against his, and by squeezing his cock tight every single time he was flush inside of her, and pulling at his hair roughly with her free hand. Until he faltered, his balls tightening painfully, no longer slapping against the soft roundness of her ass cheeks, but tucking up in anticipation, as she positively howled and erupted around him, dragging him deep inside and all but sucking the seed from him as he exploded with a guttural roar.

“Jaime?” He hummed softly at her panted whisper, and nuzzled himself further into the sweet scented skin of her sweat slicked neck, more than happy to have her tangled curls snagging in his eyelashes and stubble, as he made himself at home, laying as much of his weight atop of her as he thought she could comfortably handle, and leaning the rest to the side a touch, so he wouldn’t have to leave the lovely comfort he found, between her lax thighs. “When we do get home to The Rock, can we have chambers, WELL away from all others please? I won’t be able to look anyone in the eye tomorrow! I’m sure the whole tower heard our scandalous AND insensitive behaviour! After what happened to... And we make love like animals, so loudly that not a soul will needs question what we were so wantonly about! GODS!” He laughed softly at the embarrassment and almost shame in her tone, and pressed his lips to the sensitive skin just below her ear. Of course she would think it insensitive to carry on as though she was happy and in love, despite another’s pain. That was just who his little wife was. And of course she would be scandalised by their fucking so loudly and passionately that others might come to be privy to their exploits. He would have to have a care to never mention that his brother had whined and laughed at him with equal measure, more than once over their continued use of shared chambers.

For as happy as he was for them, and for the circumstances that allowed him to marry his lover and see his brother married off to his once little wife? He apparently did not need to hear them every damned night! Because it resulted in his having to prove himself every bit as passionate, and apparently he was getting sore! A point that made Jaime roar with laughter. But not a point that his little wife needed to be horrified over.

He sighed happily and pulled back, scrunching his face and laughing as his darling girl sheepishly reached up to brush the fire kissed strands from where they stuck to his face. He leaned in and plucked a few soft kisses from her lovely lips and nudged at her nose gently with his own. “We will have chambers away from everyone if you wish it my beautiful wife. Whatever you want. The Rock is not exactly a small keep. We could make such passionate love in a hundred different chambers and not risk being heard. BUT! I am going to tell you that you need to stop feeling guilt over our love. It is NOT your fault or MINE, that others are not as happy in their marriages.” He kissed her quickly to silence her attempt at protesting his words. “No Sansa. Let me finish. I know you have been hurting at the thought that it was to be, and even perhaps SHOULD have been you to endure what our little Rose Queen did. But it was never meant to be you. The Gods have seen you suffer more than enough. I don’t like what he did to her - what we can ASSUME he did to her, without knowing any true details of it.” He paused and licked his lips, and shuffled to better prop himself above her, studying her glistening eyes intently, gauging for any hurt his words might cause. Making sure she heard the sincerity in his whispered words, and it what he wasn’t saying too. He DID have details of what the girl endured, but he was NOT about to burden her with them. 

“She knew enough of his nature, and yet still she and her family schemed to have her marry him. When it WAS you betrothed to him, you had no control. And YOUR Father tried to protect you and see an end to it. I know it’s not so simple, just as I know I carry responsibility for him also, being the one who planted the seed from which he grew. And I know at one time you were a naive girl who thought she wanted that too. The marriage to him, and the crown on your pretty head. But sweet girl, you never had any true say or control in that. You were so very young when you were told you were to marry him. A child still, really. He wasn’t your choice, he was the duty you were told to accept. Even if you chose to also hope to be able to love him. - She did have a choice. She was already a women grown, and she had warning of who he was before she fought to have him for her own. If she didn’t want that damned crown so much, if she wanted out? Olenna would have gotten her out long before they got to the wedding.” He silenced her protests again, with another swift kiss, and smiled sadly at her frustrated huff. 

“It’s cruel and awful to think she suffered as we assume she did. It truly is. But it’s not on us, and we are allowed to be happy and we are allowed to love as we have since we gave into the pull of our attraction to each other. Don’t let that darkness mar the beauty of what we have. Celebrate it, and pity those who will never know such things. You have earned your right to feel safe and happy and loved, after everything YOU have suffered.” He wiped her tears away gently and brushed her hair away from her pretty face with a loving, careful hand. She was a beauty, his sweet little wife. So fierce and strong, proud and smart, while still being delicate and kind hearted and a little innocent too. And he loved her, as much for her kindness, as he did for the fearlessness she showed in other circumstances. Because he loved all of her. “We have done what we could - MORE than is actually required of us even. We showed outrage enough to topple The Wall, Father challenged THE KING, he made him pay in blood - his own grandson. I KILLED the men who were in a position to put a stop to it and didn’t. I had their heads mounted, so that the whole city would know I took their lives for the callousness towards their Queen. You cried rivers of tears My Love - despite what she and hers had tried to do to you and us. You took her pain on, no matter that she showed little care for you. You even WARNED her, a long time ago. And your own suffering at his instruction, should have been warning enough. Much as you don’t LIKE it, he is actually our family, and our King, and we chose to NOT simply sit by and accept it. That is far more than anyone else has done for her. Her own family allowed it and pushed for the union. It’s on them. Let them carry the weight of their mistakes, upon their own souls. Yours in heavy enough already.”

He didn’t give her a chance to speak. He leaned in and supped from her soft lips anew. It was messy and wet with the added saltiness of fresh tears, but it was perfect. A declaration of love and comfort and need. He needed her to stop and just BE. And he needed to stop and just BE too. 

“I love you. And I want you. I chose you. Please show me again? Let me forget everything but you and me? - Except quietly this time?” He huffed a breathy laugh against her lips at that last part and nodded, shuffling until his rallying cock was pressed between her folds, rubbing gently in a bid to harden a little more, and build the mood back up between them physically. “For the life of me, I’ve no idea why it is me? But I am grateful beyond belief, that it is.” He groaned softly and nosed at her face like a needy cat, once he was seated inside of her once more. “And I love you Sansa, but for the sake of proving myself GOOD to my WORD? I make no promises on keeping us QUIET.” He laughed loudly as she reached around and smacked his ass with a stinging slap, for his cheek, and focused himself on the task at hand. - Drawing as many soft sighs and little whines and breathy moans from her as he could. Losing himself and letting her be lost also, in their love, to block out the horrors of the world around them once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty! So? To clarify, Jaime did behead both Kettleback and Blount for their ‘enjoyment’ of the brutal wedding night tortures. I didn’t detail this beyond his acknowledgement of having seen to it, because like Trants death in The Kingslayers Love, they just weren’t worth mentioning beyond a footnote in my mind.
> 
> Obviously that means the KG is even more severely down on numbers! Which will be rectified soon!
> 
> As for Sansa’s upset and Jaime’s also? I wanted to show their empathetic natures for what they are. And their propensity to take on guilt for actions that they don’t necessarily have ANY responsibility for.
> 
> And finally? It’s breaking point for Sansa. She can take the beatings and the humiliation and everything else they throw at her, but like in Kingslayers Love? The idea of what could have been if Joff had wanted to truly make good on his threats to rape her? Is just too much. And she’s ready to just be GONE. Especially being that she has allowed herself to trust those around her, to help her bring about that peace she wants for her family and Jaime’s and the realm. SO! To Casterly Rock we will go - SOONISH! (And by soonish, I mean that it’s finally a point in the future timeline lol. It could be a while coming though!)


	9. Setting The Board.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TYWIN! PLOTTING! LION CHATS!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty! First up? I have to acknowledge AGAIN! That you guys are simply THE BEST! 
> 
> I also have to apologise for taking a bit to get back to all comments! I haven’t checked them since before I went to bed last night - so that I wasn’t TOO distracted trying to work this chapter! Ordinarily I answer immediately, so sorry if you are wondering if I’m being an ignorant bitch! I promise I’m not! Lol! I wanted to get this one written AND edited so I could post it ASAP, with so very many of you stuck in either lock down or isolation!
> 
> Anyway! Enjoy!

“I need an idea of how much longer whatever your plans are, will take.” The missive between his fingers dipped momentarily as his eyes flicked to his eldest son, as he made himself at home in his solar. Stepping through the door and speaking without the appropriate announcement of his presence or even a simple greeting, and then lowering himself into the seat across from him with an insulting amount of lazy presumption. His younger son, mere steps behind him, and matching him move for move, except without the advantage of his brothers natural grace.

He found it both curious and infuriating, that the idiot would speak to HIS plans, as though he didn’t have any of his own. How it was that his sons wife - perhaps it was more accurately WIVES? How it was that his sons were wed to women wise enough to realise that he was well informed of their plots and schemes, yet his own children seemed almost arrogant in their belief that they were successful in keeping things from him. Yet his son would think to question the timelines of his?

He dropped the missive lazily onto the surface of his desk and leaned back slowly. He didn’t need to continue to peruse it. He was well aware of what it spoke to, he had gone over that particular missive more than once, in a bid to be grasp what wasn’t written. And waited with no small amount of annoyance, for his son to elaborate on his demand. For that was what it was. Else it would have been delivered more appropriately, as a question. He ignored his younger son entirely, noting and dismissing his pouring tea into cups from the pot set upon the corner of his desk following the clearing of his breakfast meal, that had been ignored until that very moment.

“I mean to make for The Rock as soon as possible. Sansa and I can work well enough towards whatever ends that are being planned, from there. I’ve had enough of her being targeted.” He hummed curiously and cocked a brow in thought, and in question. He could not fault such a thought, he was rather fed up with the girl constantly being targeted himself, which was why he had done as he had, and made it abundantly clear that she was untouchable. That a move against her was a move against HIM. But he could also see that his son was utterly smitten too. Everybody could bloody well see it! His care for the girl had encouraged some of those damned attacks on her! And yet he had to allow that a man would do what he felt necessary, to protect his wife. Even more so, if he loved her as Jaime clearly loved the little wolf girl.

They wouldn’t be going anywhere for the time being, all the same. Their continued presence was necessary for his plans to find completion without unnecessary complication. And he imagined that their own schemes were much the same. They could not move forward openly, with their bids for peace with Stark, until certain issues were dealt with. And Sansa STARK, who was more correctly Sansa LANNISTER now, would not be able to travel through a WAR ZONE that her family fought on the other side of, without it being noticed that her escort was not attacked and the girl herself, RESCUED from their clutches. It would be suspicious if The Rebel forces allowed them to slip by them, to the ‘safety’ of Casterly Rock, which they would do, because that much had been settled. The North had accepted the marriage as the starting point of peace talks. Peace that no one but them could know about yet. That was also not taking into account what those who were plotting against them would do, if it was discovered that she was vulnerable in being moved out of the safety of The Red Keep.

He had questions over how such a request had come about also. His sons wife was easily one of the most astute women he had met in his many, many years of playing these courtly games. Of course, he would much prefer that they were already at a point in the game, where he could see his son and heir, and such a brilliant choice for Lady Lannister, away to where they SHOULD BE. Having them at The Rock, learning to run it and The West, with the guidance of his siblings, and working to bring the next generation of Lannister’s into the world, was the ultimate goal. But for the present, they were needed in Kings Landing. Where they were seen and where they were of use for said plans and plots. Until things settled somewhat, and their current issues were dealt with, at the very least. And if Jaime either failed to work it out, or probably more correctly, did not care enough to acknowledge that? Sansa most definitely understood and had care for such things. So he was curious as to WHY they wanted to make that move NOW.

He tapped at the table, running the nail of his forefinger along the grain of the wood momentarily, as he studied his sons determined face. Much as he disliked compromising in any way shape or form? He recognised that challenging and stubborn lightin his sons eyes. He would have a much easier time controlling Jaime, if he gave a little with this. And he didn’t need to butt heads with another of his children for now. Curiously, despite the moves he KNEW they had been making without his permission or input? His sons and their wives, had proven more than once, in recent times, to be his greatest allies. And as conflicts were brewing in their own family? He needed them on side and behaving in a manner befitting Lannister’s. “I’ll see to having an escort of guards one thousand strong, IF you agree to wait until she is with child - AND it is confirmed by a Maester. Which as I have stated, should wait AT LEAST one full moon - if not a second, to ensure there is no question that a child could potentially belong to your brother.”

His son snorted rudely and let his head flop back until he was staring at the ceiling with a ridiculous smug look on his face. “There will be no question at all Father. It isn’t possible for Sansa to be carrying anyone’s child but my own, and at the earliest? MY seed can’t have taken root before the night before we were wed.” He hummed curiously and waited for his son to meet his eye once more, arrogance oozing from his entire relaxed body. “She bled just before that. Besides, it was assumed that she was MY lover for enough time before that, that no one will question it, with Tyrions inability to put a child in her in the four or five moons, or however long it was, before that.” He scoffed right back and shot the idiot a withering look. Ordinarily, he would not care for the possible opinions of others, but he wanted the news of his sons future heir, to be untainted by speculation entirely. 

“It’s common knowledge - that only Sansa herself has openly denied, that you were lovers long before you were wed, yes. However it is also well enough known for those who reside in The Tower of The Hand, that you shared her bed for many days before you were wed.”

“Indeed I did. Which is how I KNEW for certain that she was not with child before we wed. It’s a little hard to hide such natural bodily functions, from your bed warmer and cuddle friend. She was still my LOVER even if I couldn’t have her at the time.”

He sneered in disgust and waved his son off from continuing on such things quickly, whilst his fool brother snickered to himself quietly. He did not need such information. Nor did he believe it for a second. He had been informed enough of the girls ‘natural bodily functions’ during her time as his younger sons wife, so he might remain informed about the fool doing his duty, as was expected. He may not care to know such details, now that she was wed to Jaime and being bedded regularly enough that their PASSIONS for one another had become gossip amongst the staff. Meaning that his future Grandchild was not so very far off, and thus no longer a necessary thing for him to monitor. Even if he would prefer a small delay now! But he also knew that his son was lying his ass off. He hadn’t bedded the girl beforehand. He had slept beside her, but nothing more. And she certainly hadn’t bled during that time. The fact that he thought him daft enough to believe such things was almost laughable. As laughable as the fact that he assumed that the maids - the ones NOT married into their family above their station, reported all, especially during that time period. But he would allow it to slide, because he did know that Tyrion had not bedded her between the last time she DID bleed, and her becoming Jaime’s lover and wife instead. It was not for HIS benefit that he had asked that they hold off, but for the sake of gossip.

“Very well. I won’t say I’m disappointed with the idea of a Lannister grandchild being conceived sooner, rather than later. Though it may still take time and feed into my plans all the same. If it does not? We will simply choose to not concern ourselves with any potential rumours. NOW! I’ll assume that my request to await such news is met with acceptance?” It wasn’t really a question. They weren’t leaving before that, and his son knew it. But he had learned a thing or two from the little she-wolf-come-lioness too. The girl controlled his son in a way that no other ever had, she managed to find a way to help him contain his rage enough to think before he made impulsive mistakes. Which was a definite point in her favour, and one he had almost relished in studying, so he might better get what he wanted from the fool, without having him stomping off in a temper, like a child, as he was want to do when he gave him orders.

Jaime sighed heavily and nodded. “Very well. - My wife and I would both MUCH PREFER to leave for The Rock much sooner. BUT! I’ll talk to her, now that she’s had a chance to rest her mind, she will likely be in agreement with you anyway. And I’ll just have to work harder at filling my wolfs belly with lion cubs.” Jaime shot his brother a sly smirk as he groaned audibly, and even hummed happily to himself as Tyrion cursed under his breath. Tywin had no notion of what THAT exchange was about, and no care to know either. “It’s not such a terrible hardship. I do so, LOVE fucking my wife. Isn’t it curious? Not so long ago I was cursing you for all but ordering me to her chamber for exactly that! Now I’d be more than happy to oblige if you want to send me off to my, which is also HER chamber, like a naughty child! Though if I require a spanking? All I ask is that you leave THAT to her also.”

“ENOUGH! Your brother and I need not be privy to your perversions! We’ve been exposed to far too many details of the bed sport preferences of others in recent days. Though I suppose I am grateful to be aware that you aren’t afflicted by the same evils as another. I need know nothing more in detail beyond an announcement of your success in doing your duty once your seed quickens inside of her.”

As he knew it would, his mention of such things put a swift and succinct end to his sons cocky over sharing. As well as his relaxed posing. Which was a good thing. If they meant to interrupt his morning, they had damned well better have more to report than asking permission to return to The Rock ahead of schedule! And they had damned well best be there with the intent of helping to further their common goals. Of which, he felt it necessary that they come clean and own to all plays that they thought him unaware of. At the very least come to understand that he was aware of some of them! He could better help them ensure compliance and success if they deferred to him, as they should have been all along.

“No body but those with a sick propensity for violence and suffering and the thirst for power over others, is similarly afflicted by such things Father. Speaking of which? How is our Queen? I have spoken to Qyburn about moon tea as you have asked also. He is working up some OPTIONS for us. I did not even realise there WERE options? But he seems to think that you would appreciate having access to such things, being that moon tea is easily detected by scent and taste for anyone who has been exposed to it previously, and if you mean to SLIP it to someone unawares? You risk being caught. He will notify me when he has and does whatever it is he needs.” He let a small twitch of a smile flicker at the corner of his mouth. He didn’t trust the strange Maester whom his son kept close at hand, there was something not right with the man. But for the moment, he was desperate to keep all of their favour, and the gold flowing into his pockets for whatever it was he was working at. Which meant his loyalty could be assured, so long as he kept going above and beyond what they asked of him, whilst keeping his mouth shut, and so long as they kept his coin purse from falling empty. For now he was a worthy asset. Especially if he could be supplied with OPTIONS, that would better go undetected.

“There has been little change in her condition, as far as I’m aware. As I stated yesterday, the idiot was at least wise enough to understand that he actually needs her womb and her cunt to provide heirs. There is damage there, but none that won’t heal with enough time left untouched by brutality. UNLESS she is unfortunate enough to succumb to infection, which she has managed to avoid thus far. He was not wise enough to realise that he could easily have damaged her beyond repair with his beatings, regardless of not striking her belly directly, she took blows to her back and sides and her chest also. The only thing he kept in mind there, was to not mark her where it could be SEEN. Apparently he learned that lesson from beating Lady Sansa.” He ground his jaw as his elder son snarled dangerously, and his younger muttered to himself as he pulled the wine carafe from the side table to pour them a watered down goblet each to replace the tea they had each only sipped at lightly. He wasn’t a man prone to the vice of over indulging of wine. But even he needed a taste, to wash away the disgust. Not that he hadn’t seen or even ordered worse delivered himself? But because the boy did it for the FUN of it. He had beaten the girl because no matter what he tried, his tiny flaccid cock could not rally enough to do his duty, until she was crying and begging and cowering in pain. And then the bastard had taken his taunting to do his duty as a challenge, and hurt her over and over to keep his interest enough to rape the girl again and again, until he was too sore himself to continue. 

He did not indulge himself and physically shake off his rage and utter loathing for such behaviour, but the urge to do so had been a real thing. “He was NOT wise enough to realise that her womb could be damaged on the inside, from another ENTRY POINT. That is the major concern with her recovery. And there will be no real hiding certain details from becoming public knowledge. Not when the idiot left the chair he broke apart AND the pieces he used to sodomise the girl, in the middle of her chamber for anyone who entered it, to see. Not to mention his little play in The Small Council.”

“He fucked her in the ass with a chair leg?” He nodded slowly and held his raging son’s mismatched eyes. He did NOT need to disclose such things. But it was better they knew the details from him, and that he was affording them some information in return for what he meant to drag from or perhaps put to them, before they were done with this impromptu meeting. It would serve purpose enough to solidify their agreement that he was doing what was necessary for the good of their family, by killing a member of it. He needed them wanting the boy as dead as he wanted him, and not balking at the notion of KINSLAYING. It would appease them enough that he not be the one delivering the actual blow, simply ordering it. He sneered in disgust and spoke once more. “The arm rest also. Yes. The girl almost bit her tongue clean in half fighting against the pains he visited upon her, its sheer luck that she didn’t bite the thing off entirely, and she may lose it yet, if it won’t heal on its own. I haven’t an accounting from her lips, though I have seen her with my own eyes. But her brother was good enough to speak to me in detail. He approached me alone late last evening, he wept and blustered as he did so, and begged me to help her. He didn’t care about any family plans or deals or agreements between us and the Tyrells. He wanted me to ensure that she not have to deal with the KING again. Even if it meant she was set aside with no future prospects. At least she’d be alive and safe.”

Jaime nodded sadly and slurped at the wine goblet his brother had handed him, and traced the fingers of the surprisingly useful false hand along his leg, clearly thinking. He had come a long way, but finally he was beginning to SHOW that he was the man he always knew he could be. Partly thanks to the girl whom filched his daughters complete control of him for her own, and partly, he suspected, due to the tragedy he suffered in having his sword hand taken from him. It was a hardship that he had been forced to suffer, endure and overcome. And he had come to learn to live with his ailment, as though it was no different than having his hand in truth. Refusing to be lumped in with other cripples who gave up living a life of actual use, once injured. Much as he would never have wished such a thing on his golden son, it was perhaps, his true turning point. He was twice the man he had been, at the cost of his greatest strength.

“Loras Tyrell loves his sister. Above all others. Furthermore, his desire for POWER died with Renly Baratheon, I believe. He wanted to help her into the crown she coveted, but he already lost the one he loved, for that ambition. She’s all that he has left. He won’t want to lose her more fully that he already has. He will kill Joffrey if he touches her again, or says the wrong thing in his presence. Perhaps he will do so simply at first sight of the evil little prick... And we already knew Lady Olenna was plotting to do exactly that BEFORE he could touch her. She’s a Redwyne, she doesn’t NEED the validation of raising The Tyrell name up from its lowly status. She played along to give her Grandchild what she wanted most, maybe even protect her foolish son from his own idiocy, in his attempts to play the game? - She won’t hesitate to protect and avenge the girl viciously, no matter the cost, even if it is her life, if needs be, now. They’ve already won, and then lost.” He cocked a brow and waited for him to finish his thought. Curious to find that he read them as accurately as he apparently had. And he did have more to add, it was written all over his oddly serious face. “Ensuring that the girl recovers and has SOME hope at a future, will better lower the brewing tensions, and keep at least some tentative alliance between HOUSE LANNISTER and House Tyrell - or rather, their own allies. Her mother is a Hightower and as I said, the old bitch is a Redwyne. OUR outrage and bids to protect the girl from our own, will appease them. JOFFREY will be their enemy. Not us.”

He grunted and leaned forward, resting his hands loosely upon the desk before him as he thought it over. He wasn’t WRONG, but it was a much less ruthless approach than he was contemplating. And it was clearly something that Tyrion hadn’t allowed himself to think on either, if the curious way he studied Jaime’s nonchalant look, was any true indication. “You think I should allow it to be seen that I am PROTECTING the girl? And actually DO SO? To APPEASE her damned family? Did you forget that they were willing to pin blame for certain things on your WIFE? Things that would have seen her pretty head on a spike, likely where her own Fathers has since rotted away to nothing? Or that they plotted to interfere with OUR FAMILY LEGACY?” His son growled and downed the goblet quickly, setting the now empty thing down upon the desk with a resolute clack. “No. I suggest we do allow it to be seen that we are protecting her, and ultimately end any hope for future plots born from her womb - if Joff hasn’t already dealt with that particular future issue, with his madness. And I suggest we remove the unhealthy limbs from our own family tree before they poison the whole damned thing. I don’t want to know, nor do I care how. Either locking them away or seeing them dead? Given everything? Certain people are dead to me anyway... I just don’t want the details of how anyone is dealt with. - Doing so will appease them and have them slinking on back to their farmlands. They won’t know that we took that future from her, it will be assumed that Joffrey did, regardless of if we make sure of it. - Their desire for power is slaked with the crown she suffered so heavily for, and the ripped away when the one who treated her so is REMOVED - the desire for vengeance slaked with the blood they crave, at OUR discretion. Keep the girl here as insurance, Loras is sworn to Kingsguard, it’ll appease him to have her close for when he isn’t on duty. And IF we manage peace in other directions, they’ll not find allies to stand against us. So there’ll be no need to put them down further. They will be subdued with that.”

“For that to work, we need to remove all potential enemies that we have, from the long list of ENEMIES Jaime? We can remove some, thanks to Sansa, and DEALING with certain limbs upon our own TREE. But only IF we give them the Mockingbird also. Others? We have no answer for?” He grunted in agreement with his younger son. It was a pretty dream the elder had had, but fear would be the only real way to keep them in line now. And they had insulted him and his far too many times to be afforded a stay in execution. He was willing to play along to such weaknesses for The Starks, only because he could hide it behind it being in his continued interests to keep his good daughters family alive. And he was willing to pretend he knew nothing of their little plot to take down HIS MAN and hand him over to The Dornish. - Also for continued peace between them, with having an age old debt paid. But only because he knew well, that in doing so, it was not HIM giving Gregor Clegane up, and thus, the man would not betray HIM by claiming it was at his order that he brutalised and murdered Elia Martell and her children all those years ago. He would also continue to let them believe he knew nothing of their regular contact with the girls family, or that Brynden Tully and a small force of rebels had been in the city for weeks now, right under their noses. Despite his earlier thoughts to drag such information from them. It hardly mattered that they were playing both sides of it, when it was getting results - or when it would wield them in time, he supposed. And he knew anyway, which would appease him enough for the time being. But such weakness would not become a commonplace way for Lannister’s to play the game. His mercy extended only so far, and after that, he was ruthless. THAT was how he had continued to prosper in the game for decades. He meant to continue in such a pattern. He meant for his legacy to continue to grow, and that was how it would do so. Especially if they were learning to make SMART moves without him. But in this case? HE would have the final say on how they handled The Tyrells.

“Enough. I will deal with that how I see fit. For now, continue to show support for the girl, and disdain for Joffrey and his actions. That is all you need do. Jaime? Extend yourself to the little flower knight - I will allow for HIM to be extended our TRUE support still, for now. As he has proven himself to have had little to no knowledge or control over the moves made against us. And turn your mind to rebuilding the Kingsguard numbers. Use the tournament as a platform for recruiting men WORTHY of the honour. And find Tommen a sworn sword for the interim also. You will need to be free to focus on other tasks, and the Tyrell boy will be solely responsible for his sister from now on. He will need someone as capable as the two of you have been. Now! Tyrion? Have you anything on Littlefinger yet? I NEED proof of his initial moves to bring OTHER players into line. - Not just the Starks.”

He would not explain himself. Until he had some idea as to whether the particular plans he was thinking on, had any merit of potentially being successful? He would keep them close to the chest. Not even Kevan had any indication of what he was working towards. But he did NEED the theories of Petyr Baelishs involvements in manipulating both the war and the rumours of his grandchildren, proven fact. If he could have it easily believed that Jon Arryn was only looking for ways to remove his MAD Grandson and at the time - The Crown Prince, from succession, as well as he and Stark both being manipulated into finding well placed LIES? He may be able to bring the last of the Baratheons, besides his grandchildren, back into play, and thus, remove yet another possible threat, and pull the Stormlands back into line also. It would be a mighty gamble, one that would have been made far easier if the stubborn mule of a man had just died when he attacked the city? But he hadn’t, and for the time being he was too hard to get to, to put down and be done with. Besieging him would not work, he proved himself stronger than that during the rebellion. This was his one attempt at finding a peaceful solution, and offering a last mercy. If it failed? He’d have to send someone in to kill him. And he HAD just sacrificed his best weapon.

Proof of that was in the missive he had been perusing when his sons entered his space without invite. Word from Harrenhal, raced to him via messenger, and arriving the day before, with everything up in the air over that blasted bedding disaster. The Mountain and a dozen of his men were attack and subdued riding forth for Kings Landing, apparently having been SUMMONED to attend the Tournament, at the request of Queen Cersei. HOW she had managed to get word to The Mountain in a bid to have him on hand and at her beck and call was another issue altogether. Especially when he was supposed to be holding Harrenhal at HIS command, and his daughter was supposed to be under strict guard, and effectively cut off from making any such moves, ALSO at his command. But the stupid girl had somehow gotten around his dictates, AND made HIS MAN easier pickings for those his sons had sold him to. Because he was not sequestered in the safety of walls and among thousands and loyal soldiers. 

Truthfully? He was impressed by the move, and the quick thinking of whomever was in command of the small force that attacked him. To have made their move the moment he was in a more vulnerable position. He knew Ser Gregor was subdued and taken - alive or dead, hardly mattered, he knew he would be dead in a short window of time anyway. But the rest of the men were simply put to the sword, and dragged off the road and out of the way. It had been quick and near enough to silent. Which helped, as he would not be expected to answer a slight that was not KNOWN about. Much as it itched to not answer it, in favour of the peace his sons were working for. He would allow this ONE move, because he KNEW that it was made, at their command. And served a greater purpose.

“Baelish still hasn’t been seen, but that also means he hasn’t been seen LEAVING the city either. As for evidence of his actions? It’s slow going, because for every one of the girls willing to betray the man, there is someone else willing to report back to him. And he has amassed quite a bit of fear based power amongst the small folk and the court too. He’s a slippery as an eel.” He grunted in annoyance and tapped at the desk again, sipping at the watered wine he had not touched previously, in silent thought. The man was a damned menace. And one who likely realised he had pushed a little too far, and found himself in the precarious position of having made himself a target, NOT so precarious that he had run - YET. Such a move would give him away without affording him any sort of advantage. But enough so that he had backed off to regroup, and not knowing where he was, meant he likely had allies that did not want to be seen as being connected to him. He’d make a mistake soon enough. If he didn’t, he’d cut the man down the moment his slimy head popped up in the open, and fabricate the necessary evidence to see him proven guilty of the crimes they suspected of him, after he was dead.

“Very well. Keep on it and keep me posted.” He picked up a second missive from the pile of scrolls and extended it to his elder son, nodding deftly in silent order to take it, when he cocked a brow in question. It was a concession. A round about way of acknowledging certain communications and his unvoiced approval of them. “For your wife. Lord Commander Jon Snow begs assistance of The Crown, for supplies and men for The Nights Watch. She may like to read her bastard brothers words, if nothing else. I was of the understanding that Stark raised the boy the same way he did and even BESIDE, his true born children. Send her to me to discuss how she would like to deal with the issue. We are not necessarily in a position to be of any real assistance. But if we are not the ones to help? Another may be.”

Tywin quite enjoyed the shock that shot fair across both of his sons faces. It amused him. They really did need to learn to not underestimate him. Likely they assumed he had forgotten about Ned Starks bastard sons existence. He had not. He simply knew he was no threat to a true born daughters claim. Not with a vast army at her back, and VOWS of a life long servitude, in his honourable way. And it hardly mattered, now that he had scrapped his plans to conquer The North for House Lannister. Sansa had been every bit as helpful to him in that regard, every bit the KEY to The North he had hoped she’d be, with her blood and claim. Peace with the North was only the death of a King and the arrest of a Lord away. And that was a far simpler answer than if he was to attempt to take control of it entirely. He had no need to keep her from having contact with her family any longer. - Though it would NOT go beyond the few who already knew of such contact for now either.

“She will offer assistance on behalf of House Lannister and Casterly Rock. Perhaps we’ve some prisoners locked up in the bowels of The Rock that can be put on a ship or in a cart, in chains. A few carts of grain or something easily accounted for in our own stores?” He almost shrugged, smug as he was over such a brilliantly simple play. “But it will be on SANSA to make such offers. As PROOF that she is not held against her will, but has some autonomy as Lady Lannister. If The Nights Watch answers to anyone outside of themselves, it is The Starks - and The Starks and The North, have likely been the only ones to offer them assistance in decades. I KNOW Robert rarely did. And most High Lords - myself included, followed his lead in ignoring their requests. Sansa will not ignore them, and Jaime? You and I will allow her to be in control of such things.” His lips twitched once more at the corners as the younger of the two laughed in shocked understanding, whilst the elder simply blinked at him stupidly. He had heard the girl. A STARK in Casterly Rock would go much further than a LANNISTER in Winterfell. It was a simple move and it saved him the headache of dealing with the Nights Watch himself. Or having Tommens rule be as tainted in The Norths eyes as his Fathers and Brothers before him. Even if they believed he was not Roberts blood, if it looked like Sansa could bring notice to such things before the boy, and be heard? He would have at least a sliver more respect from them. At little to no cost to them.

“Just how many plays are you juggling? - When do you sleep?” He snorted rudely at his younger sons japing and waved him off. “I will sleep when I am dead and not before. Now get out. You’ve duties of your own to see to. I’ll assume that your wives have moved beyond their indisposition of yesterday. We will dine with the rest of the family tonight. I make no promises, but I imagine that OUR KING will refuse to join us, as he has refused to be seen outside of his chambers since he was delivered to them following our TALK. He is in a little bit of a snit over his altered appearance. And he has finally realised that he should fear monsters greater than he, no matter the metal he rests on his head. Your sister is not yet aware of his... Injuries. - Be sure to keep that in mind if she makes an appearance.” 

He made no effort to farewell them, nor did he bother watching them get up and leave. He simply turned his attention back to the work at hand. ALMOST smiling as they took their dismissal without hesitation, and stood to leave. He had given far more than he’d have liked, and he had altered his intentions more than once in that small time frame. Both things that would ordinarily frustrate him no end. But he was too pleased with BOTH of his sons proving themselves worthy of his name, as they seemed to continue to do with each new set of circumstances. Not that he would tell them. But he was satisfied with their maturity of late. Perhaps he might even consider himself PROUD of them. - Jaime, he knew had always had the potential. But Tyrion was a rather large surprise. 

If he had known all he needed to do, to have him act in a manner befitting the name HE permitted him to carry, - was allow the little beast to marry a whore? He may have done things differently when he was a boy, stupid enough to wed a peasant girl, before his balls had finished dropping into their sack. Except that he would not regret the decision he made then, because circumstances were vastly different. First and foremost, his current WIFE had proven herself, to be interested only in having his ugly sons heart for her own. - He didn’t understand it at all. She wasn’t an unattractive girl, but she was adamant she loved him. And she was at least strong willed enough to stand her ground about it, which made her at least better than the weak thing he had MARRIED as a child. It served him to allow it, apparently in more ways than simply protecting his legacy from opportunistic ladies, and by allowing him to have Jaime as heir, wed to a woman worthy of the honour. Both of his sons had proved useful and even dare he think it, WORTHY allies. Not that he was going to tell them that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s more Northern stuff coming, as well as Littlefinger stuff AND Cersei stuff too! And much more. And with the looming prospect of lockdown potentially coming my way? Hopefully I’ll be working at this and HOPEFULLY, my other WIPs too, steadily for a while to keep positive in this crazy world!
> 
> Hope you are all well and keep on keeping on! And to any of my fellow Aussies? If you are stock piling dunny roll? Please stop that. It’s weird. BIG LOVE! 
> 
> And as always? Thoughts/comments whatever! are much appreciated! (And usually answered quickly! LOL!)


	10. A Howling Heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa!

“So it IS here that you hide? I had assumed as much, though I know little of such places. My presence, and that of my companions is not an offence to your Gods, I hope?” Sansa spun quickly in surprise, though not in fear at all. She knew that soft husky voice well now. And the owner of it was aware enough of her fears, to not startle her too obviously, by approaching her without warning. Her words, spoken low and with friendly nonchalance, were given well before she was within touching distance.

It made her smile, to think that the kind, older woman, would make the effort to respect her in such simple ways. And it made her smile a little sheepishly at being found, though it wasn’t exactly a big secret that she tended to visit the Godswood at regular intervals. Where else was a Northerner supposed to find sufficient peace? The sept she had to share, the Godswood she did not. And given where her heart and mind had been since mid morning? The Godswood was the only real option for her to find the clarity and the space she had needed.

She bowed a small nod in welcome to her friend - because that was what Ellaria Sand had proven herself to be - her friend. Just as much as her wild Prince had proven himself as her friend above all else. Though she did eye the strangers that swaggered along behind the woman, with both curiosity and suspicion. She didn’t know them. She did recognise them both as being Dornish? Though they didn’t have the same complexion as either Ellaria or Oberyn, the air of confidence and the scandalously revealing silks, as well as the obvious point that they were in Ellarias company, sold them as such. They were also respectful enough to curtsy to her, rather than approach as Ellaria had done, and expect her to allow them the same greeting as she did Ellaria, with a gentle hug and a kiss to her cheek, as had apparently become their way.

“You did not answer, so I will assume that I need not make a sacrifice in blood or something equally as horrific, to remain amongst your trees?” She snorted rudely and waved the cheeky thing off lightly, laughing softly and toying with the scroll rolled tightly in her fist, as she eyed the new comers one more time and turned her attention back to the view she had been watching with unseeing eyes, on the shelf of land below her. Trusting that they meant her no harm, because her instincts had not kicked in beyond acknowledging their physical presence. Her husband was presently working up quite the sweat with Bronn down below. It was a nice distraction. A VERY nice distraction. Except that it hadn’t truly shifted her mind from the path it had taken the moment that scroll had been pressed into her fingers. It simply gave her something to stare at.

Sansa sighed softly and bumped her friends shoulder with her own as she moved up level with her, at the low wall, overlooking Jaime’s practice platform, and The Blackwater Bay beyond it. “It is not necessary for you to bleed upon the Heart Trees roots, for simply visiting, no. Truthfully I’m not sure it matters, unless such things are offered to a LIVING WEIRWOOD. And there isn’t one in this Godswood. The Old Gods don’t really have RULES as such. Praying to them is... Simpler. There are no specific words you need give them. Though you do have it correct in one way, they ask for no offering but those offered of your body - or of living beings is perhaps more accurate? - Blood, yes. Your own or that of a sacrificial beast. - You might even find it curious? In ancient times wedding vows were consummated below the tree, I think even where the face carved into it could see. - Don’t quote me on that. I was child when I left home, and I spent as little time as I could with The Old Gods there. The Godswood frightened me so much. I preferred The Seven, like my Mother... But I remember enough to know that they don’t need any of the... POMP that The Seven require. It’s simpler, OLDER, more connected to life maybe? BARBARIC is it not?” She smiled sadly at her friend and attempted to shake her melancholy off once again, failing miserably. Even her sarcasm was dripping with it, rather than the humour she had tried for, by saying what ALL Southerners said of The Old Gods... And much to her utter humiliation? That was noticed quickly by the woman beside her. 

She didn’t flinch at all as the arm slipped around her waist to pull her into a gentle, heartbreakingly MOTHERLY embrace. That she couldn’t help herself but to lean into. It was curious, how easily her Dornish friends had come to be able to put her at ease. They were incorrigible flirts, but they also knew when it was acceptable for her, that they push those boundaries a little, and when it wasn’t at all welcome. And for that, if for nothing else? She was grateful to them. They didn’t presume that she would welcome their company or attentions, they learned to read her enough to know when it was alright, and when it was not. And she relished such respect, for it was NOT commonly afforded. She sighed sadly again and brushed at her face gently, to dispel any tears that might have thought to sneak out again.

“I think it is beautiful. Such simplicity. TERRIFYING! But beautiful.” Ellaria tipped her face enough so that she would look at her, and offered a playful wink and a smile. Just enough to make her huff a small laugh, at such sweet, yet ridiculous words. “There’s my lovely, happy friend! NOW! You have not questioned my interruption to your peace or prayers! So I will explain myself, no? And also HOW it is that I made my way past your many guards?” Sansa couldn’t help but smile and nod in acceptance as she pulled back, for the first time noting that Ser Addam had actually stepped back out of the clearing, and stood vigil in the tree line instead. It WAS curious, being that he had been ordered to keep her in sight and reach almost, at ALL times for the time being. And that, as far as she was aware? He was not privy to the reality of her friendship with the Dornish woman? Plus there was the fact that there were people in her presence whom she did not even know the name of, let alone whether they were trustworthy, beyond clearly having Ellarias trust.

“That handsome lion of yours advised your man that myself and My Prince were an exception to the tightened guards you have apparently been exposed to. I do not know the details of such of course, only that Oberyn informed me I would needs seek permission from the large red haired Lannister man, who is always at your back, to approach you now. Daemon has had to remain without also, though we understand.” Sansa rolled her eyes dramatically at the last part and shook her head in annoyance. She UNDERSTOOD too - that did NOT mean she liked it. Though she supposed it was better than being forced to remain at the side of one of the Lannisters at all times, as Tyrion had foolishly suggested, following the events of The Wedding, and the Wedding Night. She was starting to bristle quite a bit over the cage that her lions were building around her, no matter that she appreciated their vigilance in protecting her!

She smiled sardonically and cocked a brow at the other two women. “And yet they assume that I am safer with people I’ve not yet been introduced, than with a KNIGHT I know I can trust? Because they are women? Perhaps I needs remind my lions and my guards that women are far more dangerous than any man?” The two of them laughed happily and bowed small curtsies, whilst Ellaria snorted beside her. “Forgive me, my dear girl! I’ve been remiss. But you may trust that my companions mean you no harm. They are as indebted to you, as Oberyn and I are. You may trust that their desire for friendship is genuine.” Sansa smirked coyly and cocked a brow in question at the older woman’s amused grin. “I do not remember the exact words you used? But, you said - BE SMART. BE PATIENT. THINK. You are a Father, many times over. Trust me when I say that no little girl ever recovers from losing the one man who truly own her heart.” She blushed profusely and perused the women from the corner of her eye, as it dawned on her who they might be. “Lady Sansa STARK? Allow me to introduce Nymeria and Tyene Sand. Daughters of Prince Oberyn Nymeros Martell. Two of the Sand snakes. And LITTLE GIRLS very grateful to the lovely girl who made their stubborn fool of a Father THINK, possibly for the first time in his whole life!”

She was a little embarrassed, to say the least, over the praise being lumped on her, and that she hadn’t worked out who they were, on her own. That she had felt any suspicion at all, over Ellaria bringing women she didn’t know with her when she approached her. She trusted her the woman. In honesty? She trusted her far more than she did anyone who did not have claim to the title of FAMILY. In some cases, she trusted her more - with good reason! Much as she hated it, technically her greatest enemies and the biggest threats to her safety held place in her FAMILY. - But now that she KNEW who they were, she could SEE it - no matter the difference in colouring, subtle and not so subtle, respectively for both woman, they had their Fathers eyes. That dangerous, all seeing glint. The calculation. The ruthlessness. AND the gentle softening of them, that was so subtle that one might miss it, if they didn’t know it was there, also. Perhaps she missed it, because she had neither heard, nor expected, that Prince Oberyn would permit his daughters to join him in the city, after all that he had lost there. - And more to the point, when he had trusted no one there at all, until they made friends. But apparently he had. And she was honoured that they were trusting her to know it.

“It’s lovely to meet you both. And I must apologise for my lack of manners in not introducing myself to begin with, and for being so very rude also. I should have realised who you were. I’m afraid that my mind is elsewhere this day.” She smiled sheepishly and took each of their hands to press quickly in greeting and apology. Awkwardly doing so with the same hand, one after the other, so she need not part with the parchment she was still clinging to. 

Perhaps she should feel foolish for clinging to her brothers impersonal words, written for someone other than her? But that it was a piece of him, that she had not expected to have and did not realise that she so desperately needed. And now she had drawn attention to it, and her friend was once more waving off her poor and out of character behaviour, to help her lean her weight into the low wall again. Where she took the hand gripping the missive so tightly, in a strong, supportive hold and waited silently, with gentle, caring eyes. Without pushing for answers at all. Whilst the two SAND SNAKES brushed her apologies aside with such charming and friendly smiles, and almost pitying looks of curiosity, that darted to her hand also.

She didn’t much want to SPEAK to the madness that had gripped her, when her husband had given her brothers request for men, to her. She didn’t want to speak to the shame or the fear that warred inside of her with the excitement and overwhelming happiness. She had never been close to Jon. He was her brother, yes. He was raised beside them all, under their Fathers care. But they weren’t close, partly because he was a bastard, and she wanted so desperately, to be a proper Southern Lady, like her Mother. She had disliked the word though, and instead referred to him as her HALF brother, so she did not need to lower herself, or risk insulting him, with that word. Even if she was too naive to realise that adding in the word HALF before brother, was likely just as hurtful to him. But mostly, she pushed for, and allowed distance to grow between them, the older they got, because she wanted to show loyalty to her mother. And Jon, though he had absolutely no control over it himself, was a reminder of her Fathers infidelity, for her Mother. She saw him as HER shame, because she felt almost responsible for not having kept her Fathers interest so completely from the very beginning of their marriage, to keep him faithful to only her bed. And as a result, Sansa had seen him as the representation of both of her parents shame. But she loved him anyway, so she tried to just... Stay away, without necessarily being awful to him. Which now, as a woman grown; she understood, was awful all the same. Just as the way she made sure to call him her HALF brother. Not just BROTHER, was.

Now that she was a women grown, in love and wed herself? She could see her Mothers reasoning. And she could see her arrogance also. She did not KNOW how she would react were she in her shoes? But she liked to think that if Jaime were to bring an innocent babe home to her, with his unfaithful tail tucked away, between his legs? It would NOT be the babe who had no part in the follies of his Father whom gifted him life, at fault! But her husband. She liked to think she would aim her ire where it truly belonged. She liked to think that Jaime would be blustering and stomping and sulking for many, many moons - perhaps longer! As he begged her forgiveness. Whilst she loved the poor child who had been taken from their mothers breast. - She LOVED Tommen. He was a darling boy, whom she would feel honoured to be asked to raise alongside her own babes. No matter who his awful Mother and Brother were! But she did have to grant, such things were vastly different to the shame her Mother felt too. Tommen was NOT given life after her husband swore himself to her. And as Jaime made no moves to claim him - for obvious and dangerous reasons? Which meant that he was in no way, a threat to her future children’s place in the world.

It was unkind of her, but given the guilt she carried now, the shame and the embarrassment and the self loathing, over her own attitude towards her brother, who was kind and strong, and who never spoke to the resentment and upset he carried upon his heavy shoulders? She could not condone her Mothers behaviour in regards to her Brother. And she HOPED beyond hope! That her Mother had grown beyond it, and that perhaps one day? She might have opportunity to at least apologise to her Husbands son, for her treatment. She was never abusive necessarily? But Sansa knew what it was like to be judged and denied simple kindness. And much as an apology would never make it up to her, and she doubted it would make it up to Jon? At least he would have the validation of knowing he had never done anything wrong.

She opened her hand slowly and slipped the slightly sweaty and wilted parchment into her friends soft palm, with a sad smile. Her heart aching so painfully inside of her. “My brother. He’s Lord Commander at Castle Black now.” She smiled through her tears at her friends look of confusion. “It’s stupid. It’s not even written to me. A standard request for supplies and men from The Crown. Lord Tywin gave it to Jaime to give to me, along with permission to offer whatever small help I could, on behalf of House Lannister.” Ellaria smiled gently and opened the missive up. Blinking in surprise and a little understanding too maybe? As her eyes landed upon his name.

“Jon Snow. Your Fathers bastard. You grew alongside each other, no?” She nodded deftly and sighed, smiling sheepishly at the two bastard women who had flopped on the grass lazily before them. Making themselves completely at home, and even waiting curiously for her to elaborate. She licked her lips nervously, and shrugged, turning her eyes to her hands, rubbing at the knuckles that had grown sore from the tight grip she had been holding the piece of her brother with. “Yes. Jon was raised beside us. Winterfell was his home as much as ours. He was afforded all of the same lessons, and some of the same advantages, as the son of Lord Stark... But he was still a bastard. There was still that... Distinction between us all... He and I weren’t close. And that is my shame and my loss and my folly. And now, I am in a position to truly help him. Truly show that I care and that I always have cared... And I don’t know how to do that. And I’m... I’m afraid that he will reject my attempts, if I were to reach out beyond offering the things he has asked.”

That was the heart of it. And perhaps it was because the women with her were bastards? And she hadn’t judged them a single time, since meeting any of them? But she felt like she could talk to them, explain her fears and her pains. The ones that kept creeping through her overwhelming gratitude and excitement. And perhaps it was simply that they were women, and Ellaria a mother even - who had clearly claimed the children of the man she loved, that she did not birth. She shook her head and let tears slip free as her friend tipped her chin and cupped her cheek with a warm, soft hand. “And why would he not want to hear his sisters words hmm? Surely he knows that you have not had it easy since you said your goodbyes? Surely a man held to vows in a world removed from our own, and from any home comforts, would love to have something from someone he loves?”

“I didn’t say goodbye to him. He went North to Castle Black with Uncle Benjen, and I was ensconced in the bosom of The ROYAL Family.” She growled low and sobbed silently, utterly ashamed of her behaviour. Utterly ashamed of telling this incredible woman, that she had been a stupid little girl, who always wanted the things she shouldn’t, and not the things she had. “I was awful to him. Not because he was a bastard! But because he wasn’t my mothers son, and I wanted to appease the pain she always carried over his very existence. I wasn’t... I don’t remember ever been outright MEAN! But... I didn’t treat him as my brother, even though he never treated me as less than his little Lady sister.” She blinked through her tears and shrugged. “And now I am willingly wed to the enemy House. And he can’t know of any of the finer details, being at The Wall and so very removed from it, as he is. So to him? I’m likely STILL that stupid little girl, willing to do whatever it took, to be a proper Southern Lady... No matter the cost... Even if it is betraying my blood... Even in spite of the fact that he likely believes My Husbands family are ALL responsible for my Fathers death. For all the wrongs done to my Family. I worry that he will hate me for being a traitor.”

“So explain it to him.” She blinked in surprise at the words of advice that spilled from the girl lounging hilariously and VERY inappropriately, all over her sisters lap, in the grass, just as she imagined a snake might, in the sun. - Not that she would actually know, being that she couldn’t remember a single time in her life where she had actually seen such a thing? But still, it was amusing to think upon. “I’m not sure he’d believe me. But thank you, for not dismissing my concerns outright, as though I’m stupid for having them.” The elder of the two smiled cheekily at her before looking down at her sisters lazed form, in outright amusement. “Lady Sansa? I do not yet know you well enough to insult you, nor does Tyene. BUT! I’ve sisters enough to understand that little girls are sometimes STUPID. And I’ve sisters enough to know, that even at their MOST stupid? I love them anyway. You do not need to be told that your feelings on such are insignificant, or unimportant. Because they are not. Which is WHY my sister did not call you stupid, for feeling as you do about it. You do NOT know that he will hear anything you have to say, beyond accepting the help you wish to afford him. But you will not know, if you do not try either. And you know that well enough without being told so. My STUPID sister is right. You need to try to explain it to him. AND! Perhaps in time we will be friends, and I will tell you, you are being stupid, but when that time comes, you will know me well enough to know that I tease.”

“My Lady, Nym is a bitch of the highest order! So if she does not think you are being stupid? You are not. And she is right. You will not know what your brother thinks, if you do not put yourself before him and ask.” She startled slightly at the way the both of them spoke, and even slapped at each other, and laughed despite the insults and the hitting! They fascinated her in a way she couldn’t quite understand! They clearly loved and even actually LIKED one another, they were friends as well as sister, and yet they were so different, whilst still being similar. And they showed that by being mean! They were... ALLIES... They supported each other, even though they were insulting each other! And she burst into tears anew, apparently completely incapable of controlling her emotions at all! She wanted her own sister! She wanted to be able to have a relationship that included friendship with her. But she’d never had it and she likely never would. Not like THAT! Even if she was lucky enough to see her again one day? She didn’t imagine they could have anything like that sort of bond. And before she knew it, she was completely surrounded by soft, fluttering, brightly coloured silks, and warm, sun kissed limbs, and sweet perfumes, and friendly voices and it was just TOO MUCH!

She NEVER lost her control like this with anyone but Jaime! And sometimes Shae, and the first AND second time she met with Prince Oberyn and Ellaria too, if she was being honest. She had spent so long, and worked so hard on building herself up into someone who could hide everything, and now she was falling apart like that weak, spoiled girl whom she thought she left behind long ago! She didn’t even break like this when she finally had the opportunity to write her Mother! Yet an impersonal missive, that was not even addressed to her, from the brother she had not truly afforded her time or love or affection? The the prospect of writing him? Reaching out? Being asked to HELP with something so IMPORTANT to a Northerner? Along with honest to Gods, genuine friendliness, from people she hardly knew, and had little in common with? And a stupid, not even remotely comparable relationship between sisters, reminding her of what she had never had? And she was going to water like a child!

“I’m sorry. Truly. I just... I miss my family. And for the first time, in a long time? I can acknowledge that to someone other than Jaime and Tyrion and Shae, without fear that it will be taken straight back to... And I can actually have contact too - I know that I have had SOME since my mother released Jaime, - he worked it out so that I could? But it feels different... With Lord Tywin asking me to speak for House Lannister for communications with The Nights Watch? I feel like... Like I’m not doing anything WRONG, to do that. Like I’m not a traitor to anyone, in anyway. And it makes it feel like PEACE maybe is really possible now. And yet I still know I need to not relax my guard completely, because it’s not common knowledge yet, and there are still dangers.” She huffed an exasperated laugh and pulled away from the nest of soothing arms, to swat at her silly tears. Embarrassed so entirely over such overly emotional outbursts! “I’m sorry. It’s just overwhelming. And besides Shae? I don’t really have... I don’t know.”

“Hush, my little love. No one should know such loneliness. Women need women they can trust, and lean on and talk to. And yes! Even cry their hearts out to, if the need is there. You’ve had only the one true woman friend in all this time, who has never even thought to betray you, and you’ve needed to remain aware that she is likely reckless enough in her protection of you, to kill, without thinking about how to get around the consequences of it, so she may remain at your side, no? You’ve not had a lot of friends or simply people you could rely on, at all, until recent weeks and moons. I can see you have spent a lot of time suppressing your fears and you feelings too, because it was not safe to show such things. But it was not healthy, My Lovely One. You need not apologise to us, for honouring us with your trust. YOU are SAFE with us. You may let yourself HEAL as you need, and we will protect you until you can face the world, and this awful game, your masks back in place, once more.”

“We don’t have friends at Court. We have allies, and we have family. Those we trust, and those we do not.” That was what she had told Lord Tywin. It was what she had believed. But perhaps there were exceptions to that rule too? Because these people were her friends. For the simple sake of FRIENDSHIP. Ellaria hummed curiously and patted at her hair gently, where her head rested upon her shoulder still. Much as she knew she should not be asking these women to make her feel better, and much as she knew she should not be showing herself to be so vulnerable, or trusting so blindly with things of such great import, as her new tasks for House Lannister? She couldn’t seem to help it. She couldn’t seem to bring herself to care, or to stop it. She didn’t want to be strong in that moment. She just wanted to be a girl, who could be hugged by someone motherly, for the sake of comfort. 

“Then we are family. Because we are both friend and ally. Now! I searched you out, because I wanted to be the one to tell you something! And before you ask it? YES! Oberyn did pout like a ridiculous fool, when I informed him that he could speak with your lions instead, while I spoke with you!”

She snorted a small laugh and shook her head as she pulled back and straightened herself as best she could, brushing her cheeks and pressing around the swelling and soreness of her eyes sheepishly. She took the rolled missing back with a soft ‘thank you’ and held tight as Ellaria gripped her hand and beamed at her. “Your GIFT has been dealt with. Swiftly, and without any losses to those who sought to collect. - SHOCKING as that may be? I do NOT know how, only that it was just that successful. IT is being delivered as we speak. Curiously? The BROTHER, and an older white knight were on hand to help? I do not know that it matters to you? But the one who brought us word, seemed to think you would appreciate knowing that? Dorne will ever be in your debt. YOU will forever find welcome amongst our people. For YOU brought us JUSTICE - for the sake of FRIENDSHIP and HONOUR.” Her eyes nearly popped out as she processed such words. And then she laughed! Loudly! Freely! In a way she had not, in so very long, aside from when she was playing around with Jaime. - In a way that she should NOT laugh, in open spaces for she KNEW that there were ears everywhere! Though they were unlikely to be found in The Godswood, when the trees were crawling with the presence of a frankly stupid amount of armed Lannister soldiers, intent on protecting HER.

She let the older woman pull her into a tight hug, so tight that she almost crushed her. “Thank you, my FRIEND. You have no idea what you have afforded our family and our people... What YOU have gifted My Greatest Love.” She shook her head and even smiled at the silky black hair that was tickling her face. Her heart fit to burst over something so dangerous, yet politically simple, being so well executed. And resulting in exactly what she wanted. Peace for Dorne, and strong ties with them for herself, and protection for Shae too, if it was necessary - though it was less necessary now, with her being Tyrions wife, rather than just his lover. PERHAPS it could even mean peace between them and The West, once it was she and Jaime in control of it. 

“I can’t believe it! NO losses? I don’t know HOW! He’s HUGE and TERRIFYING! And GODS! And? Brother and WHITE Knight? Sandor Clegane - The Hound - was there to help? He will want to kill him himself. So expect him to ride along with them to your home.”

“And Ser Barristan also.”

Sansa pulled back and blinked at her in surprise, frowning in confusion and struggling to work THAT out? And struggling to keep the amusement and even excitement at the idea of THE HOUND making his way to Dorne! But Ser Barristan? She assumed he wiped his hands of taking any part in any of The Games when Joffrey and Cersei shamed him so fully. Ellaria shrugged lightly and shot her a sly smile. “Perhaps he found a new King to swear himself to?” Sansa rolled her eyes and huffed a tired laugh, squeezing her FRIENDS hand for her cheek. “Perhaps he was seeking to avenge those he has not been able to before this, sworn to vows as he was. I thought he would leave and never look back, if I’m honest. I’m glad he has a purpose, and is no wallowing in his shame.” It didn’t matter his reasoning. None of the details mattered for now, in truth. They got what they wanted. All of them. And she couldn’t be happier. Perhaps Princess Elia and her babes, and even her Aunt Lyanna too, could Rest In Peace, now that SOME of those wrongs have been at least a little avenged and righted.

——————

She parted ways with the lovely ladies of Dorne - for though they did not hold the title? They were far more worthy of it, than a LOT of those who laid claim to it, that she had met at Court. Not so long after that. Taking time only, to let her face settle, so that the tears she had cried, would not show quite so obviously, if one did not look at her directly. It had felt good to cry, and it had felt good to laugh too. It had felt so good to just be a girl for a time, and giggle and gossip too, once they settled in to lighter topics, and just enjoyed the sunshine and the quiet of the Godswood together. She wished that Shae had joined her at her prayers as she had offered earlier in the morning. So that she might have met the younger Sands, and spent time with Ellaria also. And she hoped they would have opportunity for more simple moments of pleasurable companionship in the future also.

But she was determined to turn her mind to doing whatever she could for Jon. And extending herself in the hopes that he could forgive all of her childish mistakes, and also understand the moves she had made to protect their family too. And now that The Mountain was well on his way to Dorne, and the next piece had fallen in her game for a peaceful realm? She was determined to get moving on anything else she could potentially help with.

It was a dangerous time, she knew it. There were too many people wanting to tear them down, wanting to tear her down. But she was NOT without allies. She was NOT alone. And she had come to trust that her desires matched up enough, with those with far greater powers than her own? That she need only wait for certain BIG pieces to fall. Until then, she would endure the indignity of having a veritable army surrounding her. And she would learn to better control herself again, so she didn’t draw the wrong attention back to herself either. Though she had found it rather freeing in recent days, to not feel the eyes of madness following her so closely. With Joffrey cowering in his chambers in fear of Lord Tywin, after he cut pieces off of his ears for what he did to Lady Margaery. And with Cersei being locked back in hers also! Court almost felt comfortable, except for the tensions brewing because of what Joffrey did to Margaery, that was! She would still have a care to take that step back, and better protect herself. Until she was safely ensconced in Casterly Rock, and certain factors had become a reality, allowing for peace with her family? She would need to remember that she was not truly safe again yet, no matter how she felt it more and more every day. And for now, she would simply dream of making for Casterly Rock with her love. Because she knew, despite her weaknesses the night before, and Jaime’s promises, they couldn’t go home yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this fits and isn’t too left field! It was one of those chapters that just flowed and flowed and ripped my damned heart out too! So hopefully it fits! 
> 
> Next up is a doozy! (One that needs editing and again, will hopefully not be completely out of nowhere? Lol)


	11. HEAR US ROAR!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhmmm... I’ve no warnings. Besides the obvious one that speaking to not having earnings actually is? Shh! ENJOY?

“WHAT IN ALL THE SEVEN HELLS DID YOU DO TO MY SON, YOU BASTARD!”   


Seeing his beautiful sister, lost to her rage, flying into the dining area of the Tower of The Hand, shoving the doors hard enough to slam into the walls with a shuddering force, like some fierce Goddess of fury and righteousness; and launching herself at their FATHER of all people! Was akin to some wild dream like reality, that simply could NOT be reality. She didn’t reach him, anymore than the morsel of deliciously warm and well sauced ham reach his lips. Like the ham hanging limp and waiting to be devoured, from his fork? His sister dangled in Vylarrs restrictive hold also. Though she was not at all limp, as she shrieked and scratched and kicked at the man, intent on getting her claws into their Father. Whilst the man ignored her entirely, in favour of chewing the last of his mouthful and swallowing it, AND sipping at his watered wine almost lazily, to wash it down entirely.

He wasn’t the only one frozen in place by sheer disbelief. But he took little to no notice of anyone or anything else, spellbound as he was, with watching his sister suffer through what he could only assume, was a complete breaking of her mind. She was either utterly mad, or drunk of her ass, or maybe both! But never in his life, could he have predicted that she would even THINK to attack their Father of all people! Let alone follow through on it! - He or Jaime or SANSA? Or any number of others who happened to push too hard whilst she was backed into a corner? That wasn’t hard to imagine at all! He’d seen her do so, been on the receiving end of a well placed and rather vicious slap or two! But ordinarily she would have some semblance of awareness. She wasn’t an idiot! She knew how to manipulate those around her like the best of them! And until recently, she knew how to pick her battles also. Yet there she was, roaring and screaming all manner of rather incoherent drivel, most of it coming out rather more like a string of slurs and curses, that made about as much sense as calling their Father a BASTARD of all things!

He lowered his fork slowly as movement across the table caught his eye. Sansa was whispering low to a horrified and crying Tommen, and pushing her own seat back to slide out, clearly intent on sneaking the boy away, while Jaime - ever the Golden Knight, stood between them and Cersei, looking for all the worlds, like someone had pulled his brace from his arm and slapped him with the damned thing! “And WHERE do you think you are going! You little wolf bitch! Get your hands off my son! Before you corrupt him like you have the rest of the men in my family! I should have strangled the breath out of you long ago! Wrapped my hands around the long neck of yours and SQUEEZED until there was no possible way for air to be sucked into your body!” She didn’t get to finish, for which he was infinitely grateful, given the winter storm building behind said ‘wolf bitches’ eyes! 

It was curious, and shocking too - definitely that! To see his brother pull a dagger and press it to his sister throat. Though he wasn’t at all surprised that he would react in such a manner with someone spewing such vile, hateful words at his little wolf. But it was a surprise to see the ease with which he chose between them. The ease with which he put someone above their sister. Tyrion noted the tremble in his arm, and the hard swallow he hid behind THE KINGSLAYERS frankly terrifying glare? But he wasn’t sure anyone else did. 

“My Love? See Tommen and Jenai also, with your permission Aunt Dorna? - See them to our chamber, take four of the guards with you and have them station themselves INSIDE. Shae? Would you mind speaking to the staff about having dinner enough for the four of you delivered there instead. I think this may take a while.”

“With your leave My Lord, I think it best if I join my nephews lady wives, and the children.” His Father nodded deftly to his shaking Aunt as his Uncle helped her from her seat gently and guided her around past his siblings, his tiny girl hiding her face in his side completely. “I’ll escort them and return Ty.” Again his Father nodded, and Tyrion lifted his sweet darlings fingers to press a quick kiss to them, before she pulled them away and let them drag across his shoulders as she glared daggers at his sister and stepped away to do as she had been bid.

“SIT.” 

The door had barely closed behind the SMART members of The Family, when his Fathers cold voice cut across the room like the song of the sharpest of blades cutting through the air and blocking the path of another. And like the scream that comes from metal connecting and then sliding against metal? The tensions thrumming and shimmering in the air around them, following his Father single word, were as beautiful as they were dangerous. The anticipation of when the killing blow would come, every bit as heady and intoxicating as the finest of wines. Of course, he knew WHO would deliver the final strike, but the question was, how long would it last and how many blows would be delivered either side, before it landed true.

Tyrion ALMOST felt sorry for his sister, as Vylarr manhandled her into the seat his Father indicated the moment Jaime stepped back enough to give the man room to do so, without accidentally opening her throat on the dagger he was oddly reluctant to remove. Jaime sucked in a deep, rattling breath in a bid to calm himself, and then moved to lower himself into Shaes vacated seat beside him. Putting the table between them, so he wouldn’t be tempted to actually kill her. And again, he could see the way his brother shook slightly. The only visible sign of his distress. He wasn’t going to back down or question what he had done, but he wasn’t as okay with it, as he was pretending he was.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY SON?” 

At least she was a little more subdued in action this time, though she was far from calm. He gulped at his wine quickly and watched his Fathers face shutter, with avid fascination and a good healthy dose of fear - likely all of his idiotic sisters fear was dumping on him too - because the silly woman was clearly not smart enough for the present moment, to realise that she had simply GONE TOO FAR. “I forced him to pay his debt. And I prevented war from breaking out inside The Red Keep and throughout the entirely of Kings Landing. And if you had raised that creature with even a sliver of discipline? I would not have had to do so.” The deceptively calm delivery was every bit as terrifying as the near silent whispers his Father had delivered into his nephews ears as he cut them so methodically just days past.

“Discipline? WAR? He is THE KING! You can not discipline him! YOU continually undermine him, you MOCK him! And now THIS! You MAIMED MY SON! And you think you can call it discipline! YOU! Seize The Lord Hand on charges of TREASON!” Snorted a laugh, completely unable to contain it. She was serious! She had completely lost her mind! The LANNISTER man she pointed at, and ordered to seize TYWIN LANNISTER merely blinked at her. As she had to have known he would? “I AM YOUR QUEEN! YOU WILL DO AS I COMMAND!” He couldn’t help it, his belly was actually hurting from trying to contain his incredulous laughter as everyone in the dining hall simply stared at her, in stunned silence. The more they stared, the redder her face became. “Very well! I didn’t want to HAVE to do this, but you leave me no choice.”

His sister smiled, it wasn’t delicate and pretty, it wasn’t BEAUTIFUL, it wasn’t anything like one of her usual COURTLY saccharine looks where it failed to reach her eyes. It was deranged. Mad. The green of her eyes glowed eerily like the flames over The Blackwater had, the night he had Bronn fire a lit arrow into the barge of Wildfire he had had placed there, in a bid to annihilate Stannis Baratheon and his force. Whatever she thought she had planned, was not going to end the way she wanted it to, and yet it was not going to end cleanly either.

“You step aside Father, return to Casterly Rock to live out your days, removed from MY LIFE and from MY SONS lives, and I won’t announce the truth.” Jaime froze beside him. He slipped his hand across under the table and rested it upon his arm in a bid to keep him calm. He didn’t believe he had a chance in any of the Seven hells in truth? But he had to try. Jaime would never forgive himself if he was the one who ended Cerseis life. Even if she deserved it. And it was very much shaping up to look like he might just do it. She was going to tell all. And Jaime was going to kill her for it. HE was part of what this was about. She had lost him, and then she had lost her power, and her children, only to get the one back that she loved the most, to find him not as perfect physically, as she had left him. If she couldn’t have it all? She was going to destroy them, so they couldn’t have ANY of it.

“What truth would that be?”

“That Jaime was the one who threw the young Stark boy from the tower in Winterfell. That his little bitch of a wife is a traitor whore who was, and likely still is fucking both Lannister brothers - The High Septon May be in your pocket Father, but he isn’t the only man of The Faith! Others are outraged at the lack of care around her adulterous behaviour. OTHERS are outraged at Jaime’s dismissal of his VOWS! And finally! I’ll announce the truth that YOUR LEGACY IS A LIE!”

He pushed his hand down hard as Jaime flinched under it. To his immense credit, his Father did not react at all. He didn’t flinch. His breathing didn’t change. The only one who was as still as he was, was Aunt Genna, who had yet to move or say a single thing. Which was terrifying enough in and of itself. Cersei, on the other hand, smiled as though she had won the greatest of victories, as she leaned closer to The Great Lion, almost leaning over him in a bid to intimidate him. Completely missing the way their brother was vibrating with rage and shame and disbelief beside him.

“Everything they say about Jaime and I is true. Joffrey. Myrcella. Tommen. They are ALL his. He is my BROTHER. And he is my LOVER. He has been MINE since we were children, and YOU NEVER KNEW! Because you NEVER cared to know what was happening beneath your very nose! I will OWN to it and repent my sins before men of The Faith. - If needs be I will cry fowl, claim that it was all HIS DOING - and YOURS. I’ll say you ordered my own brother to rape PURE LANNISTERS into me to seize all control of the Throne! And then, The Tyrell army, and those of MY allies, will destroy anyone who does not bend to MY SON as their King, and the Little Rose Bitch as his Queen! Tommen will be named for Casterly Rock. And I’ll gift LADY LANNISTER and her handmaiden whore to The Mountain, in the rags they belong in... Unless? Those who want the little WOLF WHORE more, have already found their way to her, as I sent word to them to do before I came here, that is. I had to agree to certain DEALS... You know how it is. Everyone has their price. Don’t worry brother! We can tell people that she ran if you like? I believe that was her new MASTERS plan? To claim that she ran with him to get away from you! To help restart The War between you all, and The Northern Traitors. Which works out well for ME and MINE, because when you are all done killing one another? Whoever is left, will all be begging for the chance to prove yourselves LOYAL to The RIGHTFUL KING, so that he doesn’t CRUSH you as the traitors you are!”

He only just managed to pull back in time to prevent being smacked with an elbow or perhaps a knee, as his brother slammed the chair back and run from the table and the chamber completely, pulling his sword as he went. He scrambled behind, thinking to follow, to find his own wife, only to find the entire hall of guards doing exactly that. Running behind their HEIR, to get to their Ladies. He barely turned back before he heard the blow land, the loud clap of an open hand to a cheek, reverberated around the move and mixed with the sound of booted feet running. He did manage to catch the most ludicrous image he could have ever imagined! By which he meant - he would have NEVER thought to imagine it! His Aunt had his sister slammed to the dining table, over and atop of the richest of foods, that had long since cooled, in EXACTLY the same position that his Father had held her son, only days beforehand. Her mummery of her brother, - His Father, was as uncanny, as it was ridiculous! And yet, it soothed the ache and the fury inside of him, to see her so subdued, and his Father STILL SO CALM. It frightened him, as much as Jaime running to save his wife and all others, without a single word spoken from his furious mouth, rather than speaking to or acting upon his lust for his sisters spilled blood.

Of course? If he weren’t so panicked himself, he may have thought on what the mad woman had said! The Tyrells would not back her against them, unless she meant to let them kill her son. Or unless... They meant to kill him during the ensuring fighting! He blew out a disbelieving breath and met his Fathers curiously blank face, in renewed panic, only to frown at his continued silence and deceptively calm demeanour.

“Tyrion. Explain to your sister WHY her plan won’t work as she believes it will?” He blinked rapidly at his Fathers nonchalance and shook his head, not understanding at all, what he wanted, as the fog lingered in his mind, thick like soup almost. The man simply blinked at him, and waited... And it clicked. “The Mountain isn’t coming to answer her call. And while we may be facing war with The Tyrells and whoever her supposed allies are, as we speak, inside of the city and even The Red Keep itself? Her son will not live out the night, because his brutality of his QUEEN, guarantees their sole interest is seizing the power for HER. And we’ve allies of our own? Allies who won’t take kindly to having it announced that their future Princess is a bastard born of incest. And who WORSHIP THE FUTURE LADY OF CASTERLY ROCK for organising to have the monster who brutalised and slaughtered another of THEIR Princesses and her innocent children, trussed up and delivered to them in chains! As for her claims to come clean? If there are men of THE FAITH willing to persecute Sansa for doing only what her duty asked of her? Then those same men will persecute her for claiming to have had incestuous relations with her brother and trying to put the children she claims are bastards, on her dead husbands Throne.”

His Father bowed a small nod and turned to cock a brow at his sister in challenge, as she struggled against his still growling aunts far superior hold. “Furthermore. INCESTUOUS LANNISTER BASTARDS have NO claim to The Iron Throne! Such children would be ostracised, and perhaps even put to death, if the realms decide it necessary. Mad or not, she would not risk it. THAT is a bluff, and a poor one. But say she followed through hmm? The Lannister forces outnumber The Tyrells, by at least one and a half, if not closer to two. And they are LOYAL TO ME. To CASTERLY ROCK. The City Watch are loyal to Jaime - though there may be traitors amongst them, any who might think to deflect, will ultimately choose the winning side. Lady LANNISTER had Robb Stark serve The Mountain up to Oberyn Martell, and though he would not fight for ME? He will for HER. And then, there is the curious little fact that Ser Brynden, The Blackfish, TULLY is also in the city, and he is NOT alone. Beyond THAT? Perhaps it could reignite war between US and The Northern forces, were they to find out that Jaime attempted to kill a boy so very long ago - a boy who is now DEAD? They’d have to believe YOU over the STARK wed, and very much in love, with your brother! And they’d be of no assistance for the WAR which will be over before dawn, because they are out of reach. There’ll be none left living to try to convince them of such things, come morning light... So DAUGHTER? You have ONE chance, and ONE chance only. Tell me WHERE Petyr Baelish is presently, and I will let you LIVE. Deny me? And I need not even speak the order. For every single Lannister man standing guard in this chamber, wishes the honour of removing The Threat to MY LEGACY.”

Tyrion Lannister had never in his life, experienced such a moment of pure fear. Nothing leading up to that point in the whole strange evening, had shown him just how extreme it would become. He wasn’t prepared for THAT ‘killing blow’. And yet he had said it himself, only to himself mind, that he’d be prepared to kill his sister if he absolutely had to. And he had hoped his Brother wouldn’t have to, AND that Father would be willing to do SOMETHING to control her before she did something stupid. Well? Now she’d done something stupid, and his Father was controlling it. And yet he felt almost numb, as he blinked and nodded in understanding, as his Father looked at him, and then at the door. 

He didn’t need to be told to get out. He didn’t need to hear the footsteps behind him to know his Aunt had been told the same. Nor did he need to look, to know she had paused outside of the door, and taken up post there like a guard, a curvaceous, vibrant, ordinarily loud and infinitely TERRIFYING LIONESS, as the door slammed shut behind her. He didn’t need to listen for his Fathers cold tones, to hear him ask her what it was going to be. And he certainly didn’t need directions. He knew he was to check in with Jaime and Uncle Kevan also - being that the latter had not returned at all, he suspected that they likely met with some sort of attack. He just had to hope it was not something they could not handle. He also didn’t need to announce it to the Lannister soldiers, they had already mobilised. He did not need to look to know that The Red Keep was now a battle ground. He could hear swords clashing, and orders being bellowed, he could smell blood and piss and shit and the smokey hints lingering in the air that for some reason, always seem to be present during battle, even if there was nothing put to the torch, that he could see? - The stench of death, though thankfully not too close YET! - He could hear screams and howls of pain, and of frustration, the grunts of effort to heft and heave steel. So he knew it to be real.

He was in shock, that much was clear. Before the sun rose on the morrow? More than one member of his Family will be dead, if not near enough to all of them. Before the morrow, his Father will have had to see his sister dead. He offered terms, but he knew there weren’t any in truth. She was THE THREAT to The Lannister Legacy. And yet he could not dwell on how that made him feel, now that it was a reality, rather than a fantasy, or a hypothetical... He needed to HELP. He needed to find Varys, make sure word got out to their allies. Make sure SOMEONE - EVERYONE was on the look out for Petyr Baelish, who was obviously the one his sister spoke to wanting to claim Sansa RAN to him for help! As if anyone would believe THAT! - AND whoever in all the seven hells it was controlling THE FAITH that his sister spoke of, too? And he NEEDED to check in with Jaime and Uncle Kevan. Make sure his wife was alright. He wanted to be with her, but he would need to trust her to his brother. Thank the Gods he could rely on ONE of his siblings! - And his KING! He needed to check on Tommen so he might be able to report back to his Father! His wife and his brothers wife, his Aunt? THEY were in possession of the True King of Westeros now. A poor little boy, a sweet child, who he knew would not want the burden. Certainly not like this. His poor nephew would always link his being crowned King, to the night his Mother started a war at The Dinner table.

He didn’t know how this would end? Only that it would end. He needed his axe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😬 
> 
> So THAT happened. Kind of out of nowhere? It was a very spontaneous bit of writing that just FLOWED AND FLOWED. I couldn’t stop it. And it was not quite what I had planned? BUT! It’s done! It’s there and IT IS - now I’ve gotta work with it! 
> 
> Also? Sorry for the uhhh CLIFFHANGER! Not usually my style? But where the muse goes? The muse goes, My Dears! Don’t worry! I don’t imagine I’ll leave you hanging long! Already I can feel the inspiration flowing for the next part!
> 
> Is it perhaps TOO far for Cersei, seemingly out of nowhere? I don’t think so. She made such threats in show verse, in a bid to get out of marrying into The Tyrells. Though OBVIOUSLY she didn’t threaten her own HOUSE there! Just to out the truth. This is just a few steps further along the mad/out of control route! Here she had seemingly lost ALL control, and her Father and Brothers are BETRAYING HER - plus? Her discovering Joff had been maimed by her own Father was what tipped the scale. 
> 
> Also it’s important to note, that no one KNOWS what she has been up to, or in what way and HOW she has wiggled loose of her cage, to have been making plans of her own. Everyone always underestimates our lioness. And bitch should NOT be underestimated! Just because she was quiet, doesn’t mean she was behaving. LOL!


	12. The Battle of Kings Landing: PT ONE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some answers. Some fluff. Some tears. MAYBE a little laugh by the end, if I’ve not broken your hearts too badly!

He didn’t know what to expect. He didn’t know what to THINK! He couldn’t think. The blood was rushing through his ears with so much force that he could do nothing but react. He had one goal. And it didn’t matter what he had to do to achieve it. He needed to get to his wife. The Keep was under attack. Somehow, The fucking Red Keep had become a battleground. And he’d be forced to think on that, focus his mind on how in all The Seven Hells his sister had managed to plan out and put into motion, something like this! All whilst she was supposed to be effectively cut off from any outside influences. He’d also be forced to acknowledge that his Father hadn’t shown a single lick of surprise, nor had he reacted with anything but complete composure, despite the very real rage he knew he had to be feeling. But for the time being, all that mattered was his wife. And his nephew. His FAMILY. Shae and his Aunt and Uncle and the little one too. And killing anyone or anything that stood in his way.

Except that there were no obstacles in his way. Lannister soldiers swarmed the halls of The Tower. They were stationed in every door way, before every window. And more were on the march - or run, as he had been, in a bid to locate his wife - they were moving to their posts, or to carry commands to those further afield, some were following him. Their men were on the move, in large numbers. Through the windows and archways he could see them, forming up around the Tower, lines two strong, shields and spears in hand, at the entry points, and the Hands Garden too. His Father had expected the attack. Perhaps he hadn’t expected WHEN it would come, but he had their army standing at the ready, all the same. The battle had commenced, he could hear it, and smell it, feel it in his bones. It was close, but it had not reached the Hands Tower, YET!

The reality of that was driven home, when he finally made it to the solar that he and his wife shared with their adjoining chambers, with his brother and his wife. And he could breathe again, as she smiled gently and kissed the boy clinging to hers hair, with so much damned love that it almost brought him to his knees. Before she gently pushed him back with a soft whisper, and he reluctantly let her pull away, turning into his Aunt Dornas side instead, where she sat on his far side. And then she was in his arms, because he couldn’t help himself, he pulled her flush to his chest, the moment she was within reach, and buried his good hand in her beautiful hair, so he might keep her close and breathe her in and focus himself. Steady himself. His sword hanging limply beside them both, from the end of his right arm. She was safe. They all were. His sisters venomous threats were empty. - Or as empty as threats made when her ALLIES apparently were not in place as she expected them to be. - As empty as threats made against a PREPARED Tywin Lannister should be. The four guards he had sent along with them had tripled, the added numbers taking up post inside of the chambers quickly. At doors, windows, on the balcony. And his Uncle was in command, and looking rather sheepishly apologetic as their eyes met, all whilst still appearing angry and shocked too. It was a strange combination of emotions to see in his usually jovial uncles face. But it was a combination that told him, his Uncle had known SOMETHING was going to happen, in advance.

He didn’t care what they had done or not done or planned out and not shared. He didn’t care how his sister had done it, or why she thought she could pull it off. He didn’t care who had gotten to her, or what they had offered to support her or vice versa. All he cared about was the girl in his arms, and the fact that his blood was slowing to a dull roar, and his heart was steadying, to beat in time with hers. Because she was safe.

“Are you alright?” He huffed slightly and tipped her head back with a gentle tug on her hair, until she was nose to nose with him. And he was lost, in the concern and love shining out of her beautiful blue eyes. She was worried for him! Not for herself or for the situation outside or anything else. In that moment, her only care, was him. He nodded silently, working his jaw, trying to swallow down the bile rising in his throat at EVERYTHING. - It was new. He was a knight. A soldier. Battle? War? Unexpected attacks? He knew what to do with those situations. But he had NEVER had to deal with - never in his whole damned life! Had he had to deal with fearing for his heart, while beating back the enemy. Because she was his heart. It beat for her and her alone and she was in the middle of the battlefield, with his sister starting this up inside the walls of The Red Keep. And he was torn, between wanting to kill every single person who played a part in this situation, and every single person who thought to move against them. And wanting to stay right where he was, his love in one arm; and his sword ready in the other, just in case.

He closed his eyes and breathed heavily through his nose as she pressed her soft lips to his gently, and pushed her hands up until the brushed at his neck slightly, where they came to rest on his shoulders. “I’m alright. We are alright. The Tower is safe. But you need to focus, My Love.” He huffed a rueful laugh against her mouth and took it again. This time with a little more pressure, a little more hunger. He KNEW he needed to focus. But by the Gods, how she cut through the mess of his mind sometimes. He stole one more smacking peck from her and sighed deeply. Nodding, more to himself than to her, as he stepped back and took stock.

“Uncle Kevan? WHAT is going on?” His Uncle paused and looked over at him quickly. He was checking out the windows and balcony doors, looking further afield, gauging how far off the actual fighting was. - Ever the knight and commander! - He knee that desire and duty well himself. The man nodded to his and his wife’s chamber in silent command, and Jaime paused only long enough to kiss his wolfs forehead and reach out to pat Tommens hair gently, and afford him a small, incredibly uncomfortable smile. Before he followed where his Uncle bid, opening his brace enough to release his sword, and propping it beside the door, as he stepped towards his armour quickly. His Uncle propped his sword alongside his and joined him, hilariously acting his squire for the moment. Not that it was actually funny, and neither of them laughed about it either. They simply focused on the task at hand, his Uncle lifting his breastplate easily, and buckling him in with efficient hands.

“Your Father got word that your sister sent for Clegane, and that he rode out intending on making for Kings Landing. We KNOW you knew that already. He knew that you and Tyrion and Sansa had made a deal for the man. The question was, WHY and HOW did Cersei send for him, and also what did she ask to convince him. Turns out, she simply made it appear as an invitation to participate in The Tourney on behalf of House Lannister. - He questioned her maids. One caved, she was blackmailing all of them into passing missives for her, sneaking visitors in through the service entrances, and even sneaking her out at times too. She was threatening their families... Littlefinger apparently took charge of one of their sisters. She’s barely older than Tommen.” Jaime sneered in disgust and cursed softly, his Uncle humming in complete agreement. “One of them, wasn’t even a maid, but one of Littlefingers girls, sent to HELP ease their communications. Nobody knows where the man is, but he’s been playing games. Plotting with and against everyone. Your Father has more than one of his higher up girls in his pocket, and so does Varys.”

His Uncle pulled the last strap tight and patted his armoured chest, meeting his eyes seriously before turning his attention to the rest of his armour. “Anyway. One of them had a missive on her at the time. Claimed she was supposed to meet some other messengers when she went down to the market yesterday, to hand it off, but that she held onto it instead. Thinking she’d approach your Father and beg him to help her, but she’d gotten scared. Apparently she heard some talk of The Tournament, and mentions of something called THE SPARROWS. It was THAT that had her wanting to approach Your Father. - Some religious fanatics, building themselves up as the new Faith Militant. The small folk are terrified of them apparently. The missive indicated that they would be attacking during the Tournament. And as your Father has had The Lannister army ready for an attack of some description, since that unfortunate business with Joffrey? He thought it was time to let your sister learn about what he did to the boy, and see what happened. He agreed to attempt to find the sister of the maid, and bring her into service for House Lannister, if she carried that information back as gossip. And he ordered Ser Gerald to let her react as she would, allow her to send word out, or follow her rather than stop her if she demanded her freedom. To send word to rally the men if she did so. THIS is what happened. Checked her every damned move, clever old shit!”

Jaime blew out a long breath on a half laugh over his Father actions and his uncles astonishment too. He nodded in thanks as he finished up and handed him his sword belt again, to buckle over his armour. His mind was reeling, processing and snagging on different points. Not truly comprehending. And yet not truly caring, caught up as he was, with needing to ACT rather than think. But sister had thought to set them off against The Tyrells and some group of Faith Militant fools, and let them tear each other apart, until they willingly bent to she and Joffrey and Margeary Tyrell also, to appease The Tyrells for fighting for her. She either didn’t KNOW what Joffrey had done to the girl, or assumed that they didn’t care, now that she had her crown... She meant to take control of The Lannister men herself when all was said and done. And Littlefinger just wanted to make a damned mess. One he could use to kill off those he wanted dead, and TAKE those he wanted for himself. TAKE those that weren’t his to have. He should have just killed him like he wanted to, the day he and Bronn warned him to stay away from his wife. He was going to kill him now. 

“So what now?” His Uncle shrugged lightly, and almost smiled, looking rather more smug than he probably should, given that there were people killing each other around The Keep - and probably The City too. “Now we let our army speak for us nephew. I’ll have to head out and find my own armour after this. And I’ll check back in with your Father and send Genna down to you here. You’ll be in command of those surrounding our family, and THE KING. But at your order, I’ll take command of the castle guards and city watch, along with The Lannister men with Your Father. I’ll send The Kingsguard to you, any who aren’t dead or fighting the other side of it, that is. They SHOULD be looking for Tommen anyway, but they may be around The Queen - not knowing what we do. - I assume you can get our family to safety if by some chance something goes wrong and The Tower is compromised.” He nodded deftly. He could yes. Likely there was only he and Varys left who knew the tunnels well enough to make any real use of them. So he would be better served doing exactly that, rather than taking command of his men, like he was itching to do. “This isn’t what we wanted. It’s not what your Father wanted Jaime. You have to know that... But by now, Joffery would be dead, I imagine. The Tyrells would have gone straight for him.” Jaime laughed dangerously and shook his head at his uncle, trying and failing to suppress the shame as he noted the pity in the mans green eyes. He swallowed hard and looked away. He had almost forgotten that his sister had just announced all that. Except that his Uncle hadn’t been in the chamber when she did. So he had to have known before that. Perhaps his Father had known before it too. It didn’t matter in that moment though. 

He shook his head and looked back at the elder man, clapping his good hand on his shoulder. “Don’t apologise. That monster threatened to rape my wife. He beat her and humiliated her more than once. I’ll kill him myself if he somehow manages to survive this night.” His Uncle sighed quietly and nodded, patting his hand softly. “He doesn’t want you to have to kill him... OR HER Jaime. He WILL protect YOU from that. - And curiously, Tyrion also.” He closed his eyes against the pain those words caused, but nodded all the same. Who would protect his Father from it, was a question that he wasn’t supposed to ask, but one that he wished he could ask all the same. Though there was little point, he knew the answer all the same. He squeezed his Uncles shoulder and then waved to indicate that he was ready to get to it. That THAT was enough for the time being. He was ashamed and pained and shamed by the fact that he felt pain for her still, after all that she had done and was doing. And he wanted opportunity to kill someone or something. But protecting his wife and his KING and his family would have to suffice. At least he’d know Sansa was safe at all times in doing so, he supposed.

The bells began tolling, a belated announcement that the city was under attack, as his Uncle farewelled his wife and daughter, and slipped from the chamber with one last look, sent his way. It amused him a little, that his Uncle managed to make him feel like a green boy, a squire perhaps, being entrusted with his first major command. Though the truth of it was, that he hadn’t served in any sort of BATTLE at all, since losing his hand and retaking his sword with his left and his brace. Not if he didn’t count that damned bear pit in Harrenhal, or the executions he saw to, days past. Which he did not. - Fighting against someone who wants to kill you was wildly different to swinging a sword at a fellow fighter in the training yard, or on the Tourney Grounds. Facing an army was different to facing a handful of brigands. Beyond The Walls of The Tower, around The Red Keep, and likely deep into the bowels of the city itself also, there were tens of thousands of men intent on carving their way through one another. Blood and meat and bone, shit and piss and guts being splashed and splattered as blades met their marks. Much as he knew that world, and understood it? He wasn’t ready to test himself with such a thing yet, if he ever truly was again.

His Uncle was a smart man, as was his Father. It was NOT necessarily that they did not trust him to be able to hold his own out there, it was that he was only just getting back to himself. He would be able to defend against any small bands of men that might break their lines and make their way into The Tower, but he couldn’t say that he would find success in the crushing and clashing of battle. It was humbling. To understand he had limitations. He wasn’t tested, his ability versus his potentially being a liability, were very real concerns. He knew, in his bones, he could handle single combat, and prove victorious. He likely could handle two on one or maybe three - for a small amount of time. But anything more, and he’d be a dead man. And there was also the fact that without even trying, he’d be a target, as his Fathers heir. - Probably as Sansa’s Lord Husband too. He’d be a target, because he was still THE KINGSLAYER... And maybe even by those who believe the ‘RUMOURS’ to be truth, also. If he was dead, he couldn’t possibly claim to have Fathered his sisters children, there’d never be a way to prove it one way or another, if he and his sister were both dead.

Once upon a time he’d have relished being that target. For so many years he had been the best of them, and that invited all manner of challengers. HELLS! The battle that saw him become his brother in law’s prisoner only ended that way, because they’d sent so damned many at him at once, after surprising him and his men! He’d cut down ten before they managed to pull him up, despite not being prepared! But he wasn’t that man anymore, nor was he that man again yet, as his wife regularly claimed he would be. 

The truth of that cracked something inside of him. The fact that his Father and Uncle knew it too? Was like that first solid hit of a lance, against his shield! It hit hard, and it hit solid, it knocked him off balance, and he had to fight to keep himself upright. And what helped him hold his seat was the fact that despite him not being that man anymore, or AGAIN YET? They had tasked him with the single most important command. He was to be the final stand between any potential threat and The King of The Seven Kingdoms, and The Lady of Casterly Rock. Maybe he couldn’t kill dozens of men lifting their blades towards him this time, but he could kill a few if they got too close, and in doing so, he would be directly responsible for the protection of The Lannister Legacy. There was some pride to be had in that, in spite of the shame that niggled just a little.

——————

“Come, sit My Knight. I’ve need of you.” He blinked slightly and turned his eyes to his wife, from the screaming scene of surging masses and low numbered attacks splintering off in places too, that was unfolding before him, as he searched the grounds of The Keep and The City for any signs of things coming too close, and for signs of which direction the fight was leaning, out of the window. His little wolf had she slipped her soft hand into his, to tug at him gently. She was too smart for her own good most of the time, his beautiful girl, but she would and did understand that he was in command and really couldn’t lower his guard to sit with her. He followed the way her eyes flicked anyway, and he understood. His nephew was clearly in shock. He was a smart kid, he likely understood that his brother, if not his Mother also, was already dead. He was likely thinking that the worst had happened with Tyrion too, as his little brother had yet to arrive. And much as he REALLY didn’t want to, given everything his sister had gone ahead and dropped as she had. Given the way she claimed she’d make HOW those things happened, so much more vile and despicable? And he didn’t want to damned well think on THAT! - He would have to do as she asked. Because at the end of the day, he was Tommens FAMILY... He was his Father. Even if he wasn’t.

He nodded in understanding and lifted her soft hand to press a needy kiss to the inside of her wrist quickly, and let her turn him from the window and drag him behind her. The men knew to keep eyes on everything, the fighting outside included - they didn’t need him for the moment. He let her manhandle him into lowering himself onto the divan next to the boy, before she stepped rather inappropriately, between his armour clad thighs, and rested her hand on his nape, likely to give comfort and affection, for what she had asked of him. And he couldn’t help but grin at her and cock a pointed brow for it either, despite the inappropriate timing, earning himself a stern look and a delightful little blush. He slipped his arm around the back of her thighs, lazily resting it on his own, but toying with her skirts all the same, as he tilted his head to gain his nephews attention.

And then he stuttered slightly in shock, taking a moment too long to react and getting his hair pulled with quick fingers to force his attention. He acted all at once, wrapping his free arm around the boy trying hard to strangle him with his desperately tight hold around his neck, and resting his cheek on top of his soft, terrifyingly familiar curls. And tightening his grip on the warm thigh under the swaths of silk brocade, to pull her closer too. He swallowed hard and simply held on as the boy sniffled and rattled shallow breaths in and out, huffing them wetly against his neck. He was crying, but what disturbed Jaime more about that, was that he was doing so, so quietly. He was trying not to, and trying to hide that he couldn’t stop. And his chest ached for a child who didn’t think that he could cry. It ached for HIS child, who obviously learned the hard way. He could hear her in his head. He’d been told the same damned things as a boy, as Tommen had likely been told. He was only moments younger than HER though. - As if that somehow gave her superior knowledge, as if it made her an expert on tears! Tommen was her son. And he KNEW by the way he tried to stop himself. ‘Boys don’t cry! Babies and simpering ninnies cry.... You will never be a man if you can’t learn to not cry.... It’s a weakness, and LANNISTERS are not weak! .... Tears are a woman’s weapon, are you a woman? ....’ Even his Father hadn’t been as harsh on it as Cersei. 

When his Mother died, and his Father had been at his most terrifying? He had told him to try to never cry in public. That as a man he would have to bury it, so until he could learn to do so, he would need to learn to let his tears fall, only where no one could see him. Cersei had taken that to mean that he wasn’t allowed to cry at all, because he was a boy. And he had taken it to mean that he had to learn to hide his weaknesses, even when he was truly hurting, perhaps even more so then. So no one could take advantage of him for it. 

He blew out a pained breath and nudged the boys head to turn just enough, and pushed his face close by his ear. “You can cry Tommen. Boys do cry. So do men. You just need to try to control your emotions, the older you get. You’ll learn to shed your tears in private, and stand strong and tall in front of people. But you don’t have to learn that tonight. You are a boy. A child. And you don’t need to prove yourself a man just yet.” He closed his eyes at the feel of lips pressed hard to the top of his head, as a gentle hand brushed the curls so close to his face. Apparently that was the right thing to say. - He didn’t know for certain. He just wished someone had said it like that to him, when he was a boy.

“What’s going to happen to Mother? And us? Do you think Joff is dead? And Uncle Tyrion too? Aunty Shae is very scared too.” Jaime sucked in a swift, pained breath and pulled back, letting his eyes track to the ashen looking woman sitting close by his Aunt and stroking almost unconsciously, at his sleeping cousins back whilst her eyes stayed glued on the door. He looked back and met a set of bright emerald eyes, swimming in tears, blinking up at him nervously, and he smiled. It was a sad smile, but he couldn’t help it, his nephew was clearly feeling awkward about being so close to him. And he was feeling rather more uncomfortable about it than he’d like to admit to. He looked just like him. He had never realised just how much, until that exact moment. It was like being nose to nose with a looking glass, that showed his younger self. Of course, he’d never been so damned close to him before. He barely even knew him before he returned to The City. Yet there he was. Nose to nose with his son. While his wife hugged and patted at them both affectionately, as though it was completely normal. And it made his heart ache something fierce. He cleared his throat awkwardly and shot him a quick wink, to dispel the strange tension that took over them both, and he pulled back just a little more too. Just to be safe. 

He licked his lips and winced. He wasn’t about to lie to him, more than he had to. But he didn’t want to upset the boy further either. He looked up at his darling girl quietly, and swallowed hard at her sad look, and at her barely there nod. “Well? I imagine that Uncle Tyrion is likely seeing to some important task, at My Fathers command. Else he’d be here by now. I wouldn’t worry for him. My brother may be a little lion, nephew, BUT he is a strong one. Resilient. He will be here soon, and we will all get to enjoy watching as your Aunt Shae berates him in a foreign tongue and strangles him with how tight she will hug him too.” He snickered to himself and shot the grumbling woman a quick wink and a nod of encouragement as Tommen giggled quietly. 

He genuinely believed that. If he was worried about his brother? He’d have gone to search him out by now. Which the woman had to realise. His Aunt Genna had yet to arrive also, but he wasn’t particularly concerned about that either. They were in the Tower, and for the moment, The Tower had not been breached. Though a few small bands had come close, he had noticed as he watched through the window? They had been dealt with quickly. And small bands would be all that got close, at least for a time, because for a full force of men to even look like doing so? They’d have to get past the larger numbers of Lannister men, that he KNEW had orders to hold strong, between them and any real battles.

“What about Mother, and Joff? He’s dead isn’t he?” Tommens voice trembled heavily, and fat tears rolled down his determined face, silently. Jaime licked his lips again and shook his head, whilst Sansa brushed the tears away, with a light touch. “Joff may still live. But it’s likely he won’t come morning... And I don’t know exactly, what will happen with your Mother Tommen. She’s not in her right mind. But if there IS a way to help her? Know that your Grandfather will take it. You do need to understand that he may not be able to do anything for her either though. Do you understand?”

“Am I The King now? If Joff-“ Tommen didn’t bother finishing, his eyes bugging wide as Jaime nodded slowly, in affirmation. “But Margaery is his Queen now? What if The Gods blessed their union? She could have a babe in her belly couldn’t she? And that would be Joffreys babe - his heir?” Jaime winced slightly and looked to the others in the room, but finding now avenue of help, as even his own Lady Aunt refused to meet his eye and blushed profusely. He did NOT want to take part in THIS discussion at all. But the boy was going to hear all about it soon enough anyway! He cursed softly and then smiled ruefully at the terrified look on the little face before him, AND the tug on his hair, it earned him. 

“Queen Margaery isn’t going to have a babe Tommen. That’s why there is a war happening on our doorstep right now. It is part of why Joff won’t still be among the living come morn. YOU are The Crown Prince of The Seven Kingdoms, and by morn, you will be King.” His nephew looked about ready to burst into tears all over again, making him wince slightly, and wonder what the fuck he said wrong. It wasn’t what he said about Joffrey dying! He had accepted that with nothing much more than a sad smile the first time he said it! So it made no damned sense that he’d cry at hearing it again!

“Uncle Jaime?” He hummed in nervous question, watching closely for the tears he was frankly terrified that he had caused, falling anew, as Tommen ducked away to stare hard at the lion emblazoned on his breastplate. “I don’t want to be King. I wanted to be a knight of The Kingsguard... Like you were before you fell in love with Aunt Sansa.” His eyes widened in shock as their mirror images flicked back up to meet them, above cheeks that coloured in a way he recognised rather well, given his wife’s propensity for blushing. He had no idea what he was supposed to say to that. He wasn’t sure he COULD form words enough to speak at all! He wasn’t sure his heart hadn’t given out completely for the boy who looked exactly like him. The boy who wanted to find safety in a hug from him. The boy who had never and could never ever be what Jaime wanted so desperately for him to be, in that moment. His son wanted to be like him. But he could never be his son. And he could not encourage him to do as he had, and shirk his duty for a cloak of white. 

Jaime didn’t have opportunity to form a thought coherent enough to answer his NEPHEW, as the solar door finally swung open to permit his brother and his Aunt entrance. He didn’t have a chance to speak at all, as his brothers scary little wife gasped in relief, and then growled dangerously.

“Are you kidding me! TYRION LANNISTER! You tell me you were not STUPID enough to go out into a WARZONE to retrieve a basket of KITTENS! Here I am worried sick that MY HUSBAND! MY LION! MY LOVE! Has met with some ill fate and I could do nothing! Because I am a woman and women are to sit and wait instead of fighting! And you are off saving CATS!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not crying! You’re crying! MORE battle to come!
> 
> Also? I hope it makes sense! But I HAVE been up all night making sure my little girls temperature shoves off, and making sure she gets enough rest! Damn this Pandemic for making a Mama paranoid over normal childhood illnesses!
> 
> Stay safe kids!


	13. TBoKL PT TWO: Take it to The Streets and The Darkest of Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A NEW POV! Part two of the Battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I give you - OBERYN MARTELL! 🙌🏻

The first indication that there was something very wrong going on, was the tolling of the bells. It could mean any number of things, but given the hour, one could assume that it meant only BAD things. Or potentially very good things, in his mind? Very JUST things. Perhaps the little butcher bastard had met with a painful, miserable end, for what he had done to the poor girl who had been silly enough to put her thirst for power above her own safety. All the same, there was something very wrong, and for a small moment, Oberyn owned to a sliver of vengeful pleasure at the thought of those who had allowed his sister to both know such brutality, and suffer the indignity of never knowing justice or peace, knowing what it was to feel her fear. And he allowed himself a small crow of internal pride also, for being wise enough to keep his family and his people well removed from The Red Keep, and safe from any and all potential enemies, by renting them the small, well appointed villa, and keeping news of that silenced, by making a scandalous show of his staying the duration of his visit, in the pillow house.

Those feelings did not last, as he slipped beyond the wide front door and onto the small stoop, surrounded by pretty flower beds, to see for himself, what the bells were tolling to tell them. And he cursed softly under his breath, as his love gasped close by his ear, her hands pausing their travels across his belly to grip the silk of his loose fitting undershirt tightly, while her weight dropped into his back in disbelief. The were so well removed from everything, in the quiet little corner, halfway up a large enough rise that he would see any threats coming, in The City built on lies and blood? That they had not noticed that they were at war in the streets - and from the looks of the tiny ant like bodies along the Walls of The Red Keep? Inside of it there also. The closer to the ugly red castle he looked, the denser the fighting was. That was where it had started. The Red Keep was under attack from the inside, and the fighting was spilling out into the streets. And now that the bells had drawn it to his attention, he could hear the telltale signs of battle, though thankfully, he was too far from it, to smell it yet also.

“Oh my Sweet, sweet Lady Wolf! Oberyn? She’s in there.” He let out a pained whine and pulled his shocked and crying Love into his arms, holding her tight, and trying to stave off the agony that her broken whisper had caused him. She was right. Their sweet friend, his darling sisters little angel of justice, was inside of the castle. And he was not sure he could get to her. It would be sheer madness to try to do it. “The Kingslayer will protect her. Lord Tywin will have two hundred men set around just her! Perhaps she is at the very top of the Hands Tower, with an army between her and whomever they are fighting?” He had to be realistic. The knight and the mad man inside of him, were warring with the learned man. The Viper was hissing that he had no place protecting or trying to save Lannisters, but the Prince could only think of the girl who had given him so much, simply because she could, and because she wanted a friend. He wondered if she would stand meekly by, hiding behind doors and walls and men much better suited to fight. Or if she would slip away, into the shadows, dagger in hand and teeth bared, ready to protect herself if needs be.

She was a wolf, as strong and resilient as a weirwood, standing through the winter storms. But she was also delicate and feminine. She fought with a different strength than steel in hand. And what was happening before his minds eye, was a battle for brawn and steel, blood lust and violence. It was not a battlefield she would know how to find strength in.

His love let out a terrified whimper, a RAGE FILLED, but terrified whimper, at the sound of a particularly bloodcurdling scream carrying all the way to their ears over the low sound of steel clashing. And he knew, he could not ask her to accept that he could do nothing. He could not expect her to love a man unwilling to TRY. He was not a craven man. He was the blood of Nymeria and The Rhoyne. He was the blood of the sun, of the spear and of the sand. And he would NOT do nothing, as yet another Princess, another SISTER of Dorne, was at risk of being taken brutally from his life. Yes! Ser Jaime would give his life protecting her if he had to. YES! Lord Tywin would have her surrounded by his most vicious and deadly lions. And NO! He did not want to fight beside them. But for her? He had no choice. He had to be sure. And to do so, he needed to get in there, and spill blood of those who were NOT Lannister’s.

He swallowed hard and met his daughters and his dearest friends eyes slowly. He did not need to say it. They knew he was going and they knew that they needed to enact the plans he laid out, to protect their people, and get them away, in the event that things turned sour in this shit pile of a city. He pressed his lips to his loves strong, lovely cheekbone and nodded as she blinked at him in disbelief. 

“My Uncle spoke once, of the tunnels under The Red Keep. The ones we have used to reach Lady Sansas chambers.” His love swallowed over and over and blinked at him to continue. He hadn’t spoken to it before. Because it hurt him to have come to realise what his Uncle had been telling him all along. Something he had failed to understand when it could have helped. Something he was too far away, in Dorne, refusing to fight for The Mad King, angry that his brother had refused to storm the city, or even give him permission to come himself, for it to have mattered anyway. His heart broke inside of his chest, and then mended slowly, bit by bit, as he thought that perhaps he was remembering when it mattered to another, because his sister was repaying the kindness offered her. Perhaps she was prompting him to do what he could for Sansa, as thanks for what she had done for Elia. 

He cleared his throat and brushed aside a lock of silky black hair, smiling as he always did, when his darling leaned into his touch. “My Uncle spoke to them in a way that was clear he was telling me something. He mentioned the history of them, of Maegor The Cruel having them built so that he could run or hide, so large and intricate that whole armies could fit if they were needed. He spoke of how he had those who built them entombed in them when they were done. His secrets of where they led, remaining in his mind alone. Uncle spoke to how Varys had shown him them, how they strolled through them and talked for hours one day.” He swallowed down his pain and ignored the tears building and blurring, as understanding flickered in her glorious, loving eyes. “He was telling me how to get into The Red Keep without notice. He was entrusting THAT to ME. And I failed... But now?”

“Now you will not fail.”

He leaned in close and supped from her lips. So familiar. So perfect and soft. So hungry for him, even after all the years they had had together. “Now I will not fail. And nor will you and our men and our girls. You need to go. If the fighting comes this way? Do not wait. Get out, take the horses and slip out of the cities cloying walls, and make for the skiffs, and the ship. You remember where we left them concealed?” He shook his head pointedly at her stubborn head tilt, and she hissed at him in annoyance, as he knew she would. But beyond his being her lover, he was also her Prince. They could not argue with his commands. Not even Ellaria. “Yes. I remember.” He nodded deftly and kissed her hard again, melding his harder lines, to her lovely curves, until he did not know where he ended and she began. “I will kill any who thinks to stand between me and her. I will be swift as the wind across the sands. And I will strike fast and true, as The Viper. And when she is safe, and I have seen it with mine own eyes? I will return to you, My Love.”

“Don’t ever leave me alone in this world Oberyn.”

“Never.”

He smiled dangerously against her lips and pulled away abruptly, pressing hard kisses to his daughters cheeks as he stepped beyond them and back inside to find his leathers, and his spear... As well as the few other blades he could carry easily on his person... And their oils too. Daemon determinedly dogging his steps, as he always did. “A half dozen will come with us. No more. The rest will stay with my family. Protect them with their lives, and move them to safety also. This is not Dornes fight. We go only for Lady Sansa, and any of those she wishes to ask our help for, as our Princesses saviour, and our friend and ally ONLY.” He didn’t bother to wait for confirmation of his words, he had a tunnel entrance to find and a Princess to protect.

——————

The biggest hurdle, in Oberyns latest dance with madness? Was that he had only a vague idea of where the hidden entrance to the tunnels may be. Tunnels that he did not know well enough to be trying to traverse in the dark of night, with only a handful of men who also did not know the way, whilst people were trying to kill each other all around. Perhaps it was more accurate to say that there were many hurdles in his path, and all of them big? It did not matter. He had spoken to his plans, and he would see them through. Though he would remember in the future, that impulsively declaring that he would ride in to save the beautiful lady, like some gallant prince of song, did NOT give voice to just how hard such a task would be. Once all of this calmed down, the Dornish, men and women alike, would laugh and cheer for their ridiculous Prince, and his extreme behaviour. At least he hoped they would, rather than singing a sad song of his failure to help her. He hoped that it would be a comedy, in truth! A tale of a foolish man, risking so much to save his friend, whom was already as safe as she could be.

It was not the time to think on such things, not when he was forced to dance aside from some poorly swiped blade, and spill blood of a man he knew not, and focus himself on the fact that in doing so, he had drawn the notice of more men he could not know. All of them, weak, soft men, with madness flickering like the flames of the lit torches around them, in their eyes. Madness proven by the carvings depicting The Seven Pointed Star upon their brows, and the rough spun, threadbare robes that fell to their filthy bare feet.

He cursed loudly and studied them as they moved towards he and his men, he could beat and kill them all easily - even without help. But it was WHAT they were, WHAT drove them, that sent a shudder of fear and disbelief down his spine. Oberyn had seen a lot. More than most could ever hope to see. He had travelled so far and fought in many a different environments. He knew fanatics when he saw them. Fanatics did not need to fight well necessarily. Because they would fight with a sense of arrogant righteous loyalty, an overwhelming blind faith, and such things could give a man strength, even if he could not own to any physically. And much as he REALLY did not want to slaughter the fourteen unstable men moving towards him like lost souls following behind the Stranger? He wanted them turning their attention back to their weapons and away from the fleeing innocents behind them even more. And much as he hated it, he wanted the Gold Cloaks he could see moving down towards them, every bit as noisy as a damned blacksmith beating his hammer, in their clunky metal armour, to get as close as they could before these mad men - whoever they were, turned and called for even more mad men.

He swung his spear almost lazily, opening one throat and slicing another cheek and ear, in a single swipe. And it was enough to get the exact reaction he wanted. They rushed him, and with well placed swipes and twirls, he evaded them, keeping them at bay thanks to the length of his spear, taunting them with a cocky laugh and a wicked smile, and turning them so his men could close in with ease. They made quick work of it, even being outnumbered by around two to one. Because what fanatics such as these fools always forgot, was that people were as passionate to live, as THEY were to kill for whatever they worshipped. 

He raised his hands lazily as the Gold Cloaks slowed enough to take them in warily, before seemingly deciding that they weren’t ‘The Enemy’ and marching away down a side street, with a swift nod to ‘carry on’. He snorted rudely and shook his head as he waved his men back into the shadows where they could slink along, hopefully unimpeded, until they came upon what he was looking for.

—————

No such luck was to be found, before they reached the point he had hoped to the Gods, turned out to be the entry that he was looking for? Slipping around where the walls of the city opened for ships and skiffs to port, and climbing along the sea slicked rocks on the OUTSIDE, with boots soaked in mud and blood and all many of other bodily fluids? They had encountered more than a half dozen small incidents. And each one, met with the life’s blood of evil men, or mad fanatical men, or opportunistic men and rapers, spraying hot over their hands and blades. War was a messy, bloody, evil thing. He had fought in many - a lot of them exactly like this. When he served with The Second Sons, he was often faced with such street fighting. It was messier even, than facing your enemies in an open field. Women and children, the elderly and infirm, they were all vulnerable, when blood ran red in the streets, even men who claimed to be good, could lose themselves to the heady drunkenness of victory and power. And the most vulnerable of people were always the easiest targets for men lost to their bloodlust. He had no stomach for such weak men. Because to be so weak, they were not capable of being GOOD. And he had no qualms with killing them, friend or foe. It mattered not.

“Well fuck it! Why not! What is a bit more shit?” Oberyn blinked in question, turning and taking in the highly amused sarcasm coming from the very put out Daemon, as he faced the only obvious opening. And he laughed uproariously, over the fact that his friend hadn’t clicked that the ONLY possible entry point accessible on foot, that would successfully go without notice as being an entryway, would be where the waste rolled down the hill and into The Blackwater Bay. It remained hidden, because no one would willingly wade through shit and piss and whatever else joined the shit and piss along the long trip, to venture into the deceptive shadows of rocks hiding the wide and DEEP cavern beyond it. It was why he had dragged them down through the deepest of slums in Flea Bottom! He needed to follow the FLOW! So he might find where it met up with other possible flows, and washed away!

“Did you expect a lovely wooden door? Perhaps with a dragon statue or two, to make it obvious?” He snickered at the deadpan stare that washed across the younger mans handsome face, as he clapped his shoulder with a bloodied hand, and pushed on without preamble, to do exactly that. Wade through the shit. He wondered at the reaction he could earn himself, if he were to ask the Kingslayer if he could get into his breeches? Smiling wickedly to himself over the idea of potentially getting to make the mans lovely wife blush and laugh at his cheek, in asking to borrow clean clothing. Perhaps THAT, and the fact that he was wading through the shit too, would make it into the songs and tales that would be written about this night? And he smiled to himself again, as he struggled with the sludgy squelching trying to suck his boots from his feet, in a bid to reach the shallows of what he hoped was at least somewhat cleaner waters beyond it, sluggishly flowing from deeper in the cavern itself. If he did not breath too deeply, or think on it? He could almost imagine that was trudging through a patch of quicksand or something far more appealing than what he was trudging through.

He was correct in his deductions. The cavern was indeed the entry point to the tunnels, but he had to concede that it had been pure dumb luck that they had thought to steal torches from the outside of buildings in some of the better lit streets, before making their way around the wall and into them. Else they’d have been moving blindly. They were doing so enough, with not knowing which direction to follow, only having what way they were facing when they entered the cavern initially as a VERY rough guide for direction. And the fact that they were wise enough to pool the fabric of their long tunics, into a pocket of sorts, to load with tiny pebbles they might drop, in case they were turned around. It took hours, at least it felt like it, he couldn’t possibly know in truth, to wind and climb and turn their way further along. There were diverging paths, and walls pressing in close in many places. But there was also a trickle of water - or worse things that they had already become too intimate with, at times too, indicating that if they walked against the flow of such things, they were likely on the correct path.

Oberyn laughed in delight, and a little in relief, as the rounded a particularly difficult and tight squeeze of a turn to find himself in a massive hollowed out cavern, held stable with massive man made pillars, and home to something he had not laid eyes on in years! Decades! The Dragons gleamed menacingly in the flicker of their torch light. Balerion and Meraxes and Vhagar taking pride of place. It wasn’t lost on him, that there were torches and sconces and braziers flickering light around the chamber long before their arrival. If his companions noticed, they failed to care enough to move their eyes beyond the fascinating skulls lining the walls. It also was not lost on him, that to get such massive beasts down there, there had to be far larger openings than the one he had entered through. But as there were many, from what he could see in the dark recesses, and corners that were not really corners because the large chamber was actually rounded from what he could tell? Their journey, their mission, was far from done.

“Prince Oberyn... I see you have a good memory. I had hoped you would. Your Uncle told me he shared our talks with you, many years ago now.” Oberyn swung around at the twittering man padding toward him on near silent feet. He may have thought to smile, relieved at having assistance for whatever was left of his valiant journey, except that he did not know, one day to the next, whether Varys could be trusted. The man let out a small giggle and smiled as though he read his mind and looked about the large cavernous space with fondness, as though he was greeting an old friend. “Word was sent, at Lord Tyrions request, for yourself and other... ALLIES hidden around The City. But I’ll assume that you made your way here upon your own steam, as you came from a direction I would not have expected.” He scowled in annoyance at hearing that he may NOT have needed to expose himself to so much human filth, but brushed it aside all the same, as the man smirked at his boots for a moment before continuing his perusal of the space he found himself. “Do not concern yourself so, the only other entry point from outside of the WALLS, is accessible only via boat. Else you would have had to find a way through the gates of The Red Keep, or over its walls perhaps. Amid the worst of the fighting. To be honest, I wasn’t sure you would attempt to come at all. I was waiting out the fighting here myself, prepared to lead CERTAIN people free, if it became necessary. It has not yet, which I can only assume, means they are still safely ensconced in The Tower of The Hand.”

“Tell me, Lord Varys, WHY are those CERTAIN people deemed important enough, that you would help them if you could... As you seemingly are helping them wherever you can? - You led me to Lady Sansa that day, and you’ve endeavoured to help us communicate since? WHY?” The man smiled sadly at him as he stepped closer, his cloying perfume, for once not an overwhelmingly uncomfortable experience. If anything it helped to mask the smell of battle and human waste that was lingering on his person, despite the shallow stream he had washed at least some of it off in. “For the same reason YOU ARE. For the same reason I wished I could have done more for worthy others, over the years, and less for less worthy ones also. I do not SERVE anyone, I SERVE everyone. My only interest is what is BEST for this realm. Once upon a time, that was your sister and her children... I was not so successful, as you well know. Though I tried.” He scoffed slightly and sneered, his heart hurting at that. He did not want to know how the man supposedly TRIED to help. And he did not want to think on the idea that it might have been he that failed the plan and his sister, by not being there for Varys to sneak her out and into the care of.

“And The Lannister brothers and their wives are what is BEST for this realm?”

“You know? I always believed that the single most important thing, the thing that would make or break this realm, was the man seated upon The Iron Throne.... I thought him all powerful... And he was, during the Targaryen dynasty, the power of the King was singular. Even though I served during King Aerys reign, which was as successful and prosperous as it was terrifying? And I knew that it was prosperous because of The Hand, not The King? It never occurred to me, that what was best, was not necessarily a good and just King with complete control. - A single person responsible for making every decision themselves... That perhaps what is TRULY best, is a strong GROUP of Lords and Ladies who may prop a King willing to LISTEN and LEARN, and follow guidance, up on his Throne. Perhaps it isn’t even important WHOM sits upon that Throne, so long as they are the SYMBOL that the people need them to be, without the vices that make them unpalatable. Perhaps what is truly best, is a strong foundation of communication and trust, between The King seated on The Throne, and the intelligent and benevolent and strong and capable and ruthless only where necessary, advisors standing beside it and him.”

Oberyn smiled tightly in understanding. It made sense. It made BETTER sense, than attempting to rebuild what once was. It was a pretty dream. One which went against the very nature of man. It would be the rare man who truly listened to EVERY piece of advice he was afforded, and thought critically about whether it was beneficial to the realm as a whole. - It WAS a rare man who would hear advice at all. And yet... He had listened... Jaime Lannister has listened... Brynden Tully and Robb Stark and even LORD TYWIN too... They had ALL listened and headed the advice of one person collectively. And that person was every bit the Lady and Queen she had been raised to be... So perhaps the eunuch had a point. Given present circumstances? If the butcher boy was to die and his young brother was raised up in his place? It didn’t NEED to be THE KING who led The Realms to rights, necessarily. And the Lady Aunt he seemingly adored, if rumours were truth? That young Lady, was already trying to rebuild it in peace from the ashes of war? She could help to guide him, she could help, with the assistance of those men in power whom she had the ear of, to build a better realm, on better ideals, than the war ravaged one that they currently had, or as Varys said, the singular based power one, they had under the Targaryens. Except that he was not sure that Westeros was progressive enough to find beauty in something like that.

Oberyn huffed a laugh and wrapped both hands around his spear, leaning his weight into it with lazy grace, studying the man curiously with a critical eye. “It is a lovely dream. But you are a smart person Lord Varys. You said it yourself, your plans have failed before.” The performed fool nodded deftly, his bald head shining in the warm glow of the light stretching across the strange underground space, his sagging cheeks wobbling with the motion. “Indeed they have. Which is why I never place all my eggs in a single basket, My Prince. My words speak only to a theory. One that is more promising than all others at this point in time. Now? I shall escort you far enough to speak on your behalf, to the veritable army of Lannister soldiers holding strong even underground. So you might make it beyond them and to your intended destination. And then I shall return here to wait out the fighting, or prepare to escort OUR potential BEST PLAN to safety, as I have stated I will.... I do NOT imagine that YOU of all men, will be believed if you claim you are there to PROTECT members of House Lannister, rather than take advantage of the battles to cut a few down.”

Oberyn chuckled darkly at the mans cheek. He was not wrong, he of all men, would not be trusted to pass The Lannister lines, not when only their most trusted were aware of his friendship and agreements with the younger Lannisters themselves. That had been a point that he had yet to figure out how to get by. So finding the cockless man waiting in the shadows, had turned out to be an even greater boon than he had thought. Not that they were likely to believe him either, but if he stated that Lord Tyrion had sent for him? It should be enough.

Honestly? The whole plan had been based purely on a mad impulse, and he was surprised, that he had managed to put even half of it off. How he did not find himself in more serious danger, sneaking through war torn streets, and precariously climbing around walls and slick rocks with waves lapping at them, trudging through all manner of filth. How he did not end up lost, working his way through underground caves and tunnels with no notion of where he was going. OR how he lucked it into finding a way beyond the lines of men intent on keeping intruders out and away from those they were charged with protecting? All of it was completely lost to him. It was luck, and not at all good planning, that saw him grinning like a fool as he emerged from more familiar tunnels, into a bedchamber he had known twice before, and out into a solar full of lions gaping at him in utter disbelief.

It had been worth it, to see such shock, if nothing else! But it was even better, that he found himself faced with his friend, clearly not needing his assistance. As he had predicted, she was as safe as could be, with her handsome fool of a husband by her side to protect her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise, we are coming around to a LITTLE bit more actual fighting - and the end of it also. Plus hopefully a few more answers. Tywin is up next and it is MOSTLY written. So hopefully the wait isn’t too long for it!


	14. TBoKL PT THREE: Lay Down Your Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE GREAT LION!

The time for thinking was past. The time for talking done also. All that was left, was the sword on his hand and the enemy intent on breaking all that he had built, lining their men up before him, like over zealous sacks of meat for the slaughter. When they would learn to know their place, to accept that they did not belong even as high as he had agreed to raise them? He would never know. But with every efficient slash and jab of his blade, his rage was fed and sated, only to find itself hungry once more. If it took for them all to be bled dry, for the whole of the Reach to feel the wrath of The Lions teeth for generations? So be it. Perhaps THAT would be enough to appease the beast inside of him.

He didn’t care a single wit that they’d killed Joffrey. In fact, he suspected that the one actually responsible for opening his belly just enough for his entrails fall to the floor, effectively leaving him to bleed out slowly, KNOWING he was going to die? Was actually one of the only members of The House Tyrell, that he may allow to live beyond the dawn. Of course, the young man had been back at his post, alongside the remaining members of the severely depleted Kingsguard, standing vigil beside a sleeping Margaery Tyrell too? So he couldn’t say for certain, who had left the bloody mess that was his Grandson, on the cold floor of The Kings bedchamber. It hardly mattered. The boy was supposed to die.

But he did care that the idiots had thought to undermine him, and attempt to take control of HIS legacy. They had tried to pass the blame for their own plots and schemes onto his sons wife. They had tried to put one of their own up as Lady of The Rock also. The fools seemed to have genuinely believed that he would have accepted some low down COUSIN from a family already pushing beyond their limits, when he had the eldest daughter born of TWO Major Houses, who also happened to be connected by blood to a THIRD, willing to give him an heir, from his true heirs seed. And then they had been stupid enough to not heed his last and finally warning, deciding it a wise more to conspire with Petyr fucking Baelish, that slimy little worm! And his own damned daughter! To take what was his once more!

There was a reason he was carving a bloody, but efficient swath through the hordes of Reachmen running towards him and his men, as they made their way towards the Throne room. The fools needed the visual reminder, that whilst he COULD kill them with ink and parchment, or with nothing more than a flick of the wrist, simpler yet? A single blink? He was choosing to force them, to look into those eyes as he DID NOT blink, but whilst his wrist DID flick, in a far more primal way. He wasn’t the LORD of House Lannister in that moment. He was The Great Lion and they would HEAR. HIM. ROAR!

He feinted left and slipped back around to the right, slicing through the inner thigh of The Tyrell guardsman, and turned just enough to drive his blade deep into the belly of some stray hedge knight. Valyrian steel sliding easily through the split side of the ill fitting breast and back plate. Ashford. Bulwer. Fossoway. It didn’t matter. They were no match, for a Lannister. They all bled the same, and none of them were blooded for battled quite so well as he. Little more than Tourney Knights, the majority of them. - Some so young they were greener than the the colours they carried for their Liege Lord. Children of summer, trying to stand against a man of more decades of experience in war, than their FATHERS had in life!

Most. - But not all. He smiled like the predator he was, a sight he knew would throw a lesser man off, than the one making his way before him. It was common knowledge that he didn’t smile, but in that moment, he felt a thrumming of anticipation and arrogant pride and he chose to do something he had NEVER done before. He channeled his son. He allowed for an obscene amount of cockiness infuse his entire being. Because finally he would meet a man worthy of standing against. A man who MAY come to be a worthy challenge. And whilst his son could not be beside him, untested and ill prepared as he was presently, for all out battle? He could carry him with him for just a few moments. And the people who bore witness to the fight that he was about to give? Would tell the whole of the Realms where The KINGSLAYER - The LION of LANNISTER, learned his skill! 

Randyll Tarly didn’t react to the unexpected look on his face, as he knew he wouldn’t. It was for everyone else. Perhaps when he was done, he would take the mans blade... Heartsbane, he believed it was called? He’d make THAT the new ancestral sword of his own house. Affording a weakness that he would NEVER admit to, in gifting the one in his hand back to his daughter by law, to do with what she would. He would call it a debt paid, for all that she had done for his House, and the realms as a whole too, he supposed. Regardless of it being her duty now, to serve and show loyalty to his House, as their future Lady. She had gone above and beyond, and it would serve him, to honour her loyalty too... It was a satisfyingly heady thought, to be in possession of THREE Valyrian steel blades, including the one his son wore at his hip at all times. At least for a time... And he would be victorious over Tarly. That blade WOULD be his. An honour for the man really? To die by his hand and have him claim it!

Killing wasn’t something to be enjoyed though, it was a means to an end. A necessary move. It was not something to relish, unless you had a damned good reason to relish it. And whilst the fight could be intoxicating and enjoyable even, it was folly to extend oneself with too much unnecessary flourishing. It was the dance of death, yes. But a battleground was not a ballroom. He understood that, and so did the man making him finally feel the tugs and pulls of his muscles, the fatigue and the strain, that a man of his years SHOULD feel, after hours of fighting. It wouldn’t stop him and it wouldn’t slow him down. He would not allow his weaknesses to bleed through. The sweat could roll down his spine and off his brow, into his eyes all it liked, he would not falter. He would strike and block and parry, sidestep and twist away, and search for the opening.

Blow for blow they struck, some to their armour, a small slice to his cheek that he failed to pull completely from in time. A grazing drag of his blade across the other mans knee. A sly kick to the ankle for him. A solid left hook to the nose for Tarly. Blood sprouting like crimson rain drops across them both. And back and forth, again and again, until he found his opening. And drove the entire length of his sword up under the other mans chin and out the top of his head, with a roar so loud it ALMOST washed out the sound of the bells tolling anew, and continuously. 

Tywin spared no more thought to the dead man, as he reefed his sword free again with a single pull, the sack of meat and blood and bone, he had become, flopped before him. He paused only long enough to claim his new sword, and cock a curious brow at his brother as he stood over Mace Tyrell, his sword resting poised, at the man wobbling and shuddering throat. The fighting had stopped.

“THE KING IS DEAD! QUEEN CERSEI ALSO. LAY DOWN YOUR ARMS. QUEEN MARGAERY HAS BENT THE KNEE TO THE CROWN PRINCE AND KING JOFFREYS TRUE HEIR! SHE HAS SURRENDERED ON BEHALF OF HOUSE TYRELL AND THE MEN OF THE REACH FIGHTING IN HER NAME! BEND THE KNEE FOR TOMMEN BARATHEON, FIRST OF HIS NAME, RIGHTFUL KING OF THE ANDALS AND FIRST MEN, LORD OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS AND PROTECTOR OF THE REALMS OF MEN!” 

He blew out a heavy breath and moved with purpose to his brothers side, as guards and pages and heralds let the cry for a cease in fighting carry, as the bells continued to toll, to spread the word. He ignored the pang in his chest, as his daughter was proclaimed dead. He had NOT needed the reminder. Certainly not in that moment. He was utterly exhausted, and once his blood settled, THAT would be his greatest shame, and his greatest victory too... But he was not done yet. 

He let both bloodied blades hang loosely at his sides, and stared the Fat Flower down silently. Letting the blubbering idiot crumble just a little more before he spoke, relishing in his fear and anger for just a few moments more. “What say you Lord Tyrell?” The man stuttered slightly at his low growl and nodded, dropping his sword in silent acknowledgement of his daughters orders. And he sneered in disgust at the weak fool. It was his only recourse, of course, but still and all, the craven fool clearly had no sense of true pride. He seemed RELIEVED even, to lay down his weapon. He probably was, Kevan would have run him through without blinking, had he not done as his daughter ordered. Perhaps the fool did not realise how lucky he had been to face his brother and not he, for HE would not have heeded the bells, and pulled his blade to a stop, as his brother had done. He likely also did not realise, that he was only prolonging it. He would die. And it would be by Lannister steel. 

“TAKE THEIR WEAPONS. ALL LORDS, HEIRS AND BATTLE COMMANDERS ARE TO BE SHOWN TO THE TOWER CELLS. ANY MAN WHO DOES NOT LAY DOWN HIS WEAPON IS TO BE CUT DOWN, ANY WHO SHOW HOSTILITY ARE TO BE SHOWN TO THE BLACK CELLS. SPREAD THE WORD AROUND THE RED KEEP AND INTO THE STREETS OF THE CITY! THERE WILL BE NO SURRENDER AVAILABLE FOR THE SPARROWS. PUT THEM DOWN. EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM. IN THE NAME OF KING TOMMEN BARATHEON FIRST OF HIS NAME! LET THIS BE A LESSON! VICTORY BELONGS TO THE BARATHEON CROWN, THE COMBINED FORCES OF THE CASTLE GUARDS AND THE GOLD CLOAKS, AND HOUSE LANNISTER.” 

———————

_ “Vylarr, make sure my daughter is served the finest wine, and eats her fill. She is not to leave this dinner.”  _

The words were haunting him. The way he had paused and kissed the top of her golden curls with dry lips also. A final goodbye. His first born child. His Light of The West. His Queen. She had been his greatest achievement, and his greatest folly also. And she was haunting him, as he knew she would. All through what was left of the night, he heard the order he gave again and again, in his mind, no matter the distractions he sought out. He worked on all the same. Rounding his men up, and having them deal with the last of the Faith Militant fools, giving the order to hunt them down, and make them pay in blood, for attempting to make moves against their betters. Sorting The Tyrell forces. Collecting up the bodies and calling for the silent sisters. Giving orders for The Castle staff to begin cleaning up, and ordering that the wounded be seen to. Whilst The Gold Cloaks took to the streets to reassure the people, - a move he ordinarily wouldn’t bother with. But a move he would have ordered, were they HIS people. If this madness to have taken hold in Lannisport. He cared not a wit if his men relieved himself of their battle lust down amongst the rubble, but he had a feeling that his young King might feel discomforted by such things, soft as he was. And perhaps he was going a little soft himself, in his advanced years. First by allowing anything to haunt his mind, and then by denying his men such things. Though he could and did argue that it would not look well upon Tommens future rule, to show a lack of care for the people. He hadn’t SACKED the city! He had been the one protecting it and His Kings future rule.

He heard it many a time, as the night wore on into the dawning light, that the turning point, the final battle, was as much between he and Lord Tarly, whilst his brother subdued Lord Tyrell, - as it was Margaery waking in her recovery bed, to discover that the Keep and The City was at war. She had ordered her brother to see her to NEW The King, once she learned of her husbands demise, so that she could bend the knee and end such needless killing. He heard that she entered, being carried by her WHITE CLOAKED brother, to find representatives of near all Kingdoms present in The Tower of The Hand, with Oberyn Martell somehow managing to sneak in to offer his protection to ‘The Lady of Casterly Rock’. - A point that would need a LOT of explanation and detail when he had time also. From what he had heard, The Rose Queen, had physically pushed herself to take to her knees, and stumbling her way past her damaged tongue, to proclaim herself a childless widow at the mercy of her brother in law and King. She had called for surrender from those fighting to put her upon a Throne to which, she had no true claim.

It was a victory, and it ended as he hoped it would. - With Tommen on the Throne, and The Tyrells and their men, held on charges of regicide and treason. It was not without loss. His child was dead, through her own folly. It was made public knowledge, as he had planned for it to be so. Queen Cersei of The House Lannister had succumbed to the agony of grief, and drank from poisoned wine, to end her pain, after hearing of her eldest child’s death. His son, though he did not claim it or feel it that way, had also lost his child. Much as it sickened him to think on such things, it was the truth, all the same. And when the sun had finally licked the sky, it was brought to him, that his brother had lost his also. Kevans eldest son, had finally been found. Dead. A sword through the belly, and a seven pointed star carved into his head. All three of them had been beyond redemption. They all knew it. But the pain held true all the same. No man should bury his child, yet the three of them would bury their eldest. One who should have never been, and would NEVER be acknowledged as such, and two who should have been better controlled and brought to heel. But it was done, and once they were in the ground, all memory of them would be done also. He’d allow only so much pain to be carried for Lannister’s undeserving of the name.

——————-

He had barely sat, when there was a knock on his chamber door, and a guard was slipping inside to inform him that there was a man seeking an audience with him. One who claimed to have a gift of sorts for him. Much as he was beyond exhausted and more than ready to see his armour and swords off into the care of a squire, so he might wash off the mess of battle enough to fall into his bed for a small amount of time? He was intrigued enough to rally what little energy he could. He had already stopped by to check on his family, and all others who had seemingly congregated in his sons still shared solar, and ordered them to rest, so they might meet once they had all had opportunity to do so, and discuss details. But he supposed, if it wasn’t going to take too long, he would allow one final intrusion. Though it would wait until he was presentable again.

He ordered a meal to be prepared and delivered to him in his solar, remembering that he had not eaten enough to feel sufficiently satisfied, during dinner the evening before. He turned his mind to eating and waved at his guard to go ahead and see his GUEST in, intending on using his meal, as he might ordinarily use his work. As a means of sending an arrogant message of intrusion, whilst taking the measure of whomever would seek him out. Perhaps he had allowed himself to fatigue even more so than he had realised, as his move failed to hit its mark. His fork paused stupidly, half way to his mouth, as Ser Brynden - The Blackfish- Tully stepped into his solar, with a look of arrogant amusement, that made him bristle as much as it made him blink.

The man was still considered a traitor to The Throne, and yet he had managed to step, UNIMPEDED, into the solar of The Hand of The King - And presumably, The Kings REGENT also! He was utterly confounded by both the ease with which it had occurred, and by the gall of the old knight.

He lowered his fork slowly and cocked a brow in command, making the man smile ever so slightly, and thrust the trussed fool he was dragging behind him, into the seat across from him. “Lord Hand. Heard you’ve been searching for THIS! I’ll not apologise for keeping him. We’ve been catching up.” His eyes zeroed in on the bloodied and battered and cowering idiot, and he felt himself smiling AGAIN, for a second time in a less than a full day. Because before him sat the man responsible for all of the unnecessary chaos in the realms. He leaned back into his seat, relishing the thrum of satisfaction and hunger singing in his veins anew. Whilst The Blackfish relaxed his exceedingly large form, into an almost lazy stance, and smiled right along with him. “Heard said he disappeared a number of days past... Curiously? I had a rather easy time of finding him - but then, none of The Small Folk knew who I was, enough to fear speaking with me.Don’t knows you’ve got that evidence that you have had people searching for, to see him arrested for all of the claims made against him? But he’s SPOKEN enough for me to tell you, he’s guilty. This is a courtesy visit. You and I can come to some sort of agreement, I’m sure. Whether we BOTH bring him before The NEW King? Or I take him North, QUIETLY, as part of a... PEACE DEAL. Doesn’t much matter to me. But know my nephew will want to be the one to take his head.”

“I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeh... That happened!


	15. The Roar of The Lions.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been FOREVER! And I am sorry to everyone who has been waiting! Apparently my muse decided to simply up and disappear for a few weeks (months... Its been months.) - but hopefully this chapter is indicative of me finding my groove again, for ALL of my works 😕!
> 
> Enjoy!

The blood was thick and hot between his fingers, slick and fresh as it dripped from his blade. Jaime watched avidly as it surged and flowed from the throat he had just opened, pooling rich and crimson upon the stones beneath his boots.

He loved his little wife. He loved her like he had never even known he could love someone, and more than he had ever loved the woman he had once believed to be the other half of his soul. He also was accustomed to being on guard over his King, and ultimately the final line of defence for him... But he was not a man who easily accepted standing by while other men around him fought to protect him either.

He was not a man who could easily stomach the idea of a clean blade at the end of battle.

He understood well why it was he who had been charged with the protection of his family, including his King. Not only was he The Lord Commander of the whole of the newly set Royal Forces, he was also the longest serving and most experienced Knight of The Kingsguard - though he was no long technically Kingsguard at all and hadn’t been for some years now.

He was also untested in battle since his hand was removed.

Jaime knew all of the many reasons he had not been able to be amidst the fighting, and all of them were sound. He had accepted them. He had also been forced to repeat them to himself over and over, like a mantra, to distract himself all evening.

Because no matter the reasons, no matter how much he loved his wife, no matter how clear his nephew made it, that his presence was a comfort and a strength for the boy? He felt worthless.

He had been wound so tight listening and watching and waiting, without having the chance to raise his own sword, that he had felt like an actual caged lion. He had been spoiling for blood. Spoiling to rip open the sacks of meat and blood and bone that were his enemies. To actively protect those he loved by taking the lives of those that had and would hurt them.

And the only one to breach the Lannister’s lines and make it beyond both them and the walls of The Hands Tower, where he was waiting, had done so with the intent to protect he and his. Not to hurt anyone he was there to protect. The only one to get close enough for him to engage in battle, was not someone he could kill, because he was friend not foe.

He might have been tempted to bloody the mad Dornish prick all the same, for sneaking up on them all. And for stinking like shit and piss and all manner of hells, because he had apparently climbed through actual shit to get there. And even for japing about getting into his pants also, so he was at least less offensive dressed in clean, borrowed clothes. Except that the mans insane actions had been as unbelievable as they were heroic and frankly astonishing. They had also been entirely for his little wife’s benefit, and it pleased him to have the man prove himself loyal and true to his word, for her.

Oberyn Martell had not been an enemy he could kill.

The bloody and crumpled body at his feet had been an enemy. One he had sworn to kill on more than one occasion, and he was done playing the game according to the terms set for him by others.

Not even a full two hours beforehand, his Father had been by to check on them all and to advise that the fighting was well and truly over. He had ordered them all to rest and regroup so that they could meet later in the day to sort through the mess of it all.

Jaime had had enough resting. And his mind had not been a good place for him to be stuck while he _rested_. 

His sister was dead... His twin... _His other half_.His first born child - his nephew. _.. His King_. And his uncles son too. He had loved them all to varying degrees for varying reasons, and he had hated them all to varying degrees and for varying reasons. He had also been almost indifferent about them all also. He had wanted them dead. Yet he hadn’t cared if they died. And still he was in agony over their losses also.

None of it made sense. He was heartbroken, and at the same time, he was relieved. He felt completely lost and adrift and yet oddly at peace.

And when his wife was done hugging his clearly devastated uncle and aunt. Comforting them both over having lost their child, and even crying for them also. She had magnanimously offered to keep his tiny cousin with them, alongside Tommen, so they might grieve for a time before they had to explain it to the little girl.

Seeing her so giving and loving and grief stricken by, for and with his family - the family that had torn her own apart. Murdering her Father and declaring war against her brother and uncles. The family that had treated her so abhorrently... It had been too much for him to process on top of everything else the night had already wrought. But then seeing her tucking two very obviously Lannister children into their bed beside herself, and holding them close as if they were her own and she was intent on keeping all of the darkness of the world away from their small shoulders.... 

He had been forced to go away inside somewhat, because the swirling storm of emotion had been set to cripple him more than the loss of his sword hand had.

So when his Father had summoned him, he had been grateful to have something to keep him busy for a time, and he hadn’t complained at all.

And when he had noted the presence of a beaten, broken and trussed Petyr Baelish drooping in the seat across from his Father, he had hesitated even less.

He hadn’t bothered with words. 

For Jaime, blades and blood had always been his preferred language anyway.

Swiftly and succinctly, he had drawn his dagger across the mockingbirds throat, and fulfilled the vow he had made himself over and over again.

“Did you enjoy that?” His Fathers tone very nearly sounded amused.

Jaime smiled widely, his eyes lingering on his handy work for just a moment longer. Finally he felt a little more like himself. A little more like the warrior he was supposed to be, after finally getting to kill that man.

Sure, it wasn’t exactly honourable to effectively murder a trussed up prisoner. But that particular trussed up prisoner had not only created utter chaos in the realm, by speaking Jaime’s secrets, as well as his own embellishments, outright lies and rumours into the ears of far too many powerful people. He had manipulated everyone and everything to fit his personal desires and plans too.

And ultimately and wildly more dangerously, he had also tried more than once to steal Jaime’s love from him. His eyes had lingered too long, his gaze too hungry, on the glorious woman too far out of his league, that Jaime called Lady Wife. His plans had always been set in a way that somehow involved _his_ Sansa... Despite being warned that he could expect exactly what he got, if he even so much as glanced at her wrong again.

“Yes.” He stated unequivocally and unapologetically, as he stepped over the mess he’d made and dropped into the seat beyond the one the man had fallen from with the force of his killing blow.

He didn’t bother to wipe the blood off of himself or off his blade. He simply met his Fathers tired, yet curiously satisfied eyes.

“Well than I suppose you best thank your wife’s uncle for already getting the mans confessions. His word, along with that of a few of Baelishs employees and potentially whatever Tyrells are left to attempt to turn this latest debacle all on him, should suffice to name him guilty of his many crimes and clear the way to have the late Lord Eddard Stark pardoned, and those despicable rumours buried once and for all. Which will in turn, give unquestionable grounds to put an end to this war.”

He did no more than nod at both his Father and the Uncle in question. He couldn’t care less about any of it at the moment. He didn’t have the strength of mind to wade through more. No matter how much The Blackfish grumbled and grunted and scrubbed at his craggy old face to show his frustration over Jaimes actions.

“I’m no headsman, so excuse me if this takes some hacking.” 

Jaime turned his head curiously at his brothers conversational tone and huffed in shock and astonishment. His eyebrows reaching high on his forehead as his little brother proceeded to tug his axe free of the thick leather belt he wore to keep his weapon on hand, and raise it as high as his short arms would allow before driving it down with all his might, over the dead mans already mutilated neck.

It took him two solid swings to work the small axe all the way through, crunching and splitting the bones, and spraying even more of the rapidly cooling blood than even Jaime had when he had killed the man. But he took his head, and even smirked through the thick splattering of crimson drips clinging to his face and hair, as he hefted it up, with his small fist full of matted black hair, like a prize.

“Shall I see him mounted upon the spike his actions saw Ned Stark mounted upon, or shall I have it sent North with haste, so _The Young Wolf_ may have the honour of doing so?” He asked, clearly pleased with having had opportunity to finish what Jaime started. “It would be rather poetic that this traitor be left to rot upon the walls of Riverrun, being that House Tully was technically the first he betrayed... But I believe that the order is yours to give, _My Lord Regent_.”

Much as Jaimes were, his Fathers eyebrows were almost touching his hair, as he stared at Tyrion for long moments. He was almost smiling at his little brother, his lips twitched ever so slightly and there was a look of pride in his eyes that Jaime had never seen levelled at his brother before.

That look, _that pride_ , was the tipping point for Jaime. Something inside of him cracked, allowing the overwhelming madness of his thoughts and feelings to rush over him like the waves of The Sunset Sea crashing against and over and around the rocky outcrops below the cliffs off of The Rock.

He laughed. Uproariously and uncontrollably.

His sister was dead. As was his son - and a cousin he could barely remember the face of also. And only the Gods could know yet, how many others. The Red Keep had been the sight of battle, the city streets had been bathed in blood. A half mad Dornish Prince, a _Martell_ , had crawled through shit to make it in to the castle, past all the fighting, to save his wife - the wife of a _Lannister_. And a bloody _Tully_ had brought them the traitor they had sought, in the midst of it all.

Now the war between his own family and his wife’s family was over. 

With a flick of his own wrist, the greatest antagonist, the original mastermind behind it all, was dead.

With a heft or two of his axe, his brother had beheaded that same dead traitor in the middle of The Hands solar... And his Father was proud of the littlest lion for what had to be the very first time in his younger brothers entire life. 

And for Jaime, it was _that_ that had made it all, simply too much. He was overwhelmed, and all he could do, was roar with laughter.

“Mount his head on the same spike that that vicious, stupid boy used for Lord Stark, and have the rest of him quartered. Send the pieces to the four corners of Westeros as a message of what will happen to anyone foolish enough to attempt to play The Major Houses against one another again.” The smile manifested on his Fathers face as he delivered his orders, and as his long fingers tugged the badge of The Kings Hand free from his tunic, and tossed it carelessly upon the table close to where his brother stood. “Tully can detail his crimes, and we will announce them along with the crimes of House Tyrell, when we crown Tommen on the morrow. Following that, missives are to be sent to every holdfast in the realms apprising them of it all, along with the announcement that we have a new King.” His Father tapped the table and then pointed to the badge as he cocked an arrogant his brow at his gaping brother. “I believe such tasks are now upon your shoulders, _My Lord Hand_.”

Tyrion lowered the head still clutched tight in his hold slowly, to hang at his side and bowed a respectful nod to The Great Lion, but held his tongue as he stepped back towards the door to see what was left of Baelish dealt with. 

His silent acceptance and determination to see at least some of his tasks through before even bothering to touch his new badge, said more about his brothers shock than anything else could have. And Jaime couldn’t remember a time he had ever been so proud of his little brother, or as shocked by his Father, as he was in that moment.

“Kick that out of the way and have a seat Tully.” Jaime waved lazily at the headless body, and finally turned his attention to putting his dagger down and searching out a handkerchief so that he might clean some of the blood off finally. “We will send for whatever meals the kitchens can see to with everything else going on around the keep, and discuss the battle while I have someone see to a chamber for you.” 

“What the fuck do I want a chamber for, Lannister? I’ve perfectly fine lodgings out in the City.” The old man grouched as he moved the wooden chair and shoved the remains away so he could drop into the seat as he had invited. 

“I’m aware. But I assume you would like to actually speak with your niece at some point, and she is sleeping presently. It seems senseless to have you attempt to leave and comeback again, when peace between our Houses has yet to be announced. As far as anyone outside of The Hands Tower is concerned, you are a _traitor_ to The Crown. And I will not be explaining to my little wife that you got yourself cut to ribbons or arrested and thrown in The Black Cells trying to visit her. So you will stay, and have a chance to clean up some, before you do see her, at least.” The Blackfish grunted at him in understanding as he relaxed his massive frame into the seat, as much as his famous and easily recognisable black scaled armour would allow. “I will leave it to her to decide if you are allowed to deny further offers of hospitality, after that.” Jaime smirked at the mans exasperated snort.  
  


“I’ve never met her. I know she looks like her Mother, and I’ve heard it said that she’s smart and every bit the highborn Lady, as well as being as much a wolf as the rest of The Starks... But I’ve only seen her at a distance since being here in Kings Landing.” The old man sighed and smiled a little to himself at the idea of seeing that rectified soon.

“Smart is an understatement.” His father stated matter of factly. “Had my sons wife been at her brothers side to advise him these last years Tully? It would have ended long ago. As it stands, it is she and my sons who have found the true reasons for this war beginning as well as the means to see it ended.” Jaime buried his smile in his chest as Brynden Tully blinked at his Father in surprise. Jaime could not have predicted his Father admitting such a thing out loud, so there was no way the old trout was expecting him to speak so highly of his beautiful, brilliant love. “Lady Sansa Lannister happens to possess one of the greatest minds in The Kingdoms of Westeros, and if she weren’t my family and thus my ally, I might admit to feeling a small amount of concern about playing the game against her. Luckily, she is my sons wife and the Lady of Casterly Rock, a she-wolf, yes. But also a lioness, and I’ve no need to be concerned for such things.”

_“The Lady of Casterly Rock_ , or the _future_ Lady of Casterly Rock, or the _future Lady Regent of Casterly Rock_ Father? She’s been referred to as all such titles in recent times.” Tyrion shot a wink at him as he strutted back to his Fathers desk, wiping his hands and face with his own handkerchief as he did so, and proceeding to pour them all a goblet of wine.

Jaime snorted a laugh and let his head drop back onto his shoulders to stare up at the overhead candle rack. It was obvious to him, but maybe not so obvious to Tully, or maybe even his Father, but Tyrion was not used to having his The Great Lions respect. So it was a matter of comfort for him to annoy the man with a jape or two, so he’d go back to glaring at him.

“I meant what I said Tyrion, you also said it yourself. I will need to take on the regency. Tommen has seen nine name days. At a minimum he will need me to rule for him until he reaches his majority. And he will likely require my assistance for as long as I can provide it, after that. The Rock is now in Jaime and Sansas hands.” Jaime’s head shot up so fast it spun as he gaped at his Father in disbelief and even a little bit of fear. The old man met him with a slow, appraising look. “You wished to take your wife home, and now you will. - After an appropriate time, to allow for the funerals of both your sister and nephew, whatever celebratory occasions that will be set for our young Kings coronation, _and_ after your wife’s brother has bent the knee here before The Iron Throne also.” Jaime swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. “Kevan, Dorna and Genna will all be there to offer you both assistance and guidance and the two of you will learn from them. But you will be Lord of The Rock.”

“You’re assuming my nephew means to bend the knee.” Tully snorted rudely, obviously as annoyed by his Fathers high handedness and assumptions, as he was amused by what he had just done to Jaime.

“He bends the knee, or at the very least I will _not_ interfere on his behalf, with the spiteful Lord he insulted so gravely by breaking his word and betrothal, and taking my bannermans daughter to wife. Nor will I be _lenient_ with said wife’s family, who turned cloak on me to allow her to be wed to the boy.” The Great Lion warned quietly. “He _and you_ , would both be wise to remember that my grandchildren will have a claim to both Winterfell and Riverrun through their Mothers blood.”

The Blackfish bristled dangerously beside him. “So why not take them for your own?”

Jaime’s nerves flickered dangerously as his Father smiled again, ratcheting up the tension in the room to an almost unbearable level.

“Because _my daughter_ desires her family be spared, and had backbone enough to ask it of me, and also advise me against such actions.” Jaime’s jaw dropped in disbelief, as did his brothers. “Consider yourself lucky that I respect her as I do. Consider your lives my gift to her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope it’s not too clunky and fits - I’m a bit rusty lol.

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty! Back to KL next! I hope you all enjoyed FINALLY meeting Arya. And I hope you don't want to strangle me for being so very over the top self indulgent.


End file.
